Loving on the Sidewalks
by CCarbonmonoxide
Summary: I hold her like I need to hold her just as much. I hold her like I’m afraid she’s just going to fall into pieces and melt away. I mean, it’s never really happened to me before, holding a girl who made my hands shake as she laced hers with mine.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

My name is Ashley, Ashley Davies.

I'm telling you this straight up like this because I don't want to become one of those people who have a thing they do or a thing they have as a name. Like 'that man with hideous yellow hair' or 'that old lady with all the cats'. You're all guilty; you all have them in your neighbourhoods, and never bothered to find out their real name. I saw about two of my neighbours give me dirty looks as they went in their stupid beige house, and I can practically hear them thinking out loud the new name they've just made up for me. Maybe that's why I'm coming on a little too protective of those people. Of the lady with all the cats and the man that always dyes his hair yellow, I mean.

Have you ever done a project, and accidently printed the same picture twice? Yeah, I guess most of you have. So you're doing your project, right? Scrapbook, poster, whatever, and then you realise, you have two identical things looking back at you. At first you think it's like a déjà vu or something but then you're all like, damn. And how you get that other picture off is a totally other story full of anger and tragedy. But what I mean by that is that those two identical pictures? Make them houses with people and pets and lawns and cars. And multiply that by the number of houses in a neighbourhood. And magic! That's where I live. I swear, in my dictionary brown, beige and white are synonyms for gag reflex.

I've totally skipped a part haven't I? Oh well. Just to say, I'm currently just out side, lying down on the sidewalk in front of my house. Oh yeah, and its poring rain and it's about 3 in the morning. So if you don't want to call me Ashley, you could always use the nickname my fellow clone neighbours use, 'That girl who only comes out when it rains'.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter****One**

I threw a dirty look at my stupid neighbour as I was rolling on my skateboard on the way down my street. As I was about to flip him off, something stopped my board and sent me flying to the ground.

''What the fuck?''

I kind of expected to see my neighbour, the one with the horse shaped bald spot. Instead, I met clear blue eyes, blond hair, and absolutely no loss of hair in sight (at least not from my present angle). So got up and brushed the non existent dirt from my pants. This town sucked so much that it couldn't even get you dirt or little rocks to brush off your pants in awkward social situations.

I looked at the girl in front of me. By now, most (boring) people in this town would have apologized or something but the girl just had her hands open in front of her, the type of thing I'd do if I was caught doing something bad and I wanted to plead innocent. She wasn't giving me a look of disgust or superiority, and that surprised me. I mean, I usually don't get a neutral reaction from anybody in this dead end piece of the world, because of how I look. My loose low pants, that button-up, plaid boy shirt I wore today, my almost religious backwards cap and those beaten up converse always seems to lead people to think they can give free hate. But the girl looked neither impressed nor disgusted. That's a first. I took of my cap and ran a hand through my messy curls before saying;

''don't worry, I'm okay. Just nearly broke my neck because of that huge suit case you decided to leave in the middle of the road.'' I shrugged and gave the girl a small smile.

''So you're the new neighbour right? I hope you don't have younger brothers because I'm going to consider a _homicidal_suicide if I have to deal with them throwing stupid balls in my back yard. The last neighbours, god, I couldn't stand them, those stupid demon twins kept throwing their stupid basketballs in our backyard, yeah I know, basketballs, as if that made sense that it ended up in my yard. You know who kicks basketballs? Crazy homicidal people with a suicide wish. And then worse part; they'd get their filthy rich father to come knocking with his fake British accent and he'd be all like 'har har, my sons have just been practicing for their next basketball game, they got quite a hand don't they? Har har' and… and I'm totally blabbing and you don't have a clue who I am. My name's Ashley Davies.'' Leave it up to me to start the blabbing action this early in a non-existent relationship.

The blonde gave me a smile and extended her hand. At first, I didn't really know what to do. I mean, honestly, who shakes hands anymore? I did it once, as a joke, but far from relatives that you don't know enough to hug, you don't really shake hands. But I guess I owed her a shake of hands since I totally exploded words on her like that.

It then occurred to me she hadn't said a word yet. Erugh. I'm so stupid sometimes. Clearly the girl had better things to do then to hear me talk endlessly and act stupidly. But instead of leaving the girl picked up my board and gave it to me. I took it and for the first time since I bought it, it felt dumb holding it as I walked away, into a house a few houses away from hers.

*****

''So, darling, how was school today?'' This is my mother trying to practice the mother-daughter communication that they have been covering this week at her club Mothers of Niceye. Yeah that's the name of this town. Giving you to guess where it is you'd probably assume Antarctica or Africa or some place where they have native people, but then you'd be surprisingly wrong. Or not, who cares really. This is just some dead end town, just about south of nowhere.

My father, Raife, is some big something. I'm sorry I can't explain better, but look, I got him to explain it to me countless of times, and really, I just don't get it. All I know about his job is that its complicated, that many people suck up to him, and that he makes enough cash, so my mother doesn't have to work, and can go do whatever she wants, and attend meetings about being a better mother while leaving me completely alone in the house 90% of the time. He's rarely here for supper but I guess tonight's a lucky night.

''Mother. What kind of question is this.'' I say.

''Ashley don't use that tone with your mother,'' My father looks at me cold and hard. My eyes are rolled. ''I'm glad you're here tonight. I have something important to talk to you both. Were organizing a gathering next week. To welcome all the new employees we've hired and to attract more…'' Great; a work gathering. Who wants to dig my grave?

''And it would look good for me if both of you attend. Nothing looks better than a business man with a beautiful family. I know Friday is when you meet up with your club honey, but this is very important. And there's this man we need to have working for us, and he's hesitating. Our new neighbour, the one I presented to you yesterday Chris-''

''Oh! Arthur! I heard…'' At this point the boredom is making my brain fry. I go back to the self portrait I was making with my spaghetti. Oh god, I'm such an artist.

''And Ashley, he's also going to bring his daughter. So I expect you to be kind with her, he recently told me about her condition.''

''Her what?''

''She's mute.'' He states simply. I shrug. She must be Pretty Blonde's sister or something. ''So I expect you to clean up and look good.'' He says looking at me in a way that I know better then to wear a Cannibal Corpse shirt and my skate jeans like I did last year as a joke. I couldn't believe that in a group of 100 and more people, nobody could find that joke funny, but me.

*****

There's some dumb classical music playing in the back ground and for some reason, that kind of music always makes me feel violent. Doesn't it do that to you too? I see my father mouthing me to come see him. I tug on the tie of my suit and walk towards him.

''Arthur, this is my daughter, Ashley. Ashley, this is Mr. Carlin.'' He puts a hand on my shoulder as I take in the man before me. He looks stiff and cold. Just like the kind of people that work for my father actually. Seems he won't have a hard time making friends with the other men with moustaches and bad senses of humour. But this man sadly doesn't have a moustache. I resist the urge to ask him why he would do that to himself.

''Nice to meet you Mr. Carlin'' I offer him a handshake. Yeah you didn't think I'd be so polite right?

My eyes almost fall to the ground as I see P.B. from the other day make her way next to the man in front of me. She looks gorgeous in that little black dress, and her blond curls trapped inside a messy bun. With her hair tied up like that I could now see a faint scar on the side of her neck. My gut told me that her father had once paid her lots of surgeries to get rid of it. Yet she looks stunning, and all I can think about is to not make a bad joke that has to do with people who can't talk. I always make the worst jokes at the worst time. I think it's part of my defence mechanism.

''This is my daughter, Spencer; this is Mr. Davies, the man for whom I'm going to work for and this is his daughter Ashley. Spencer is going to start attending King High with you next week.'' He had his hand protectively around the shoulder of the slim girl next to him. To me she looked like she was about to break into pieces. I think I'm the only one who noticed, her father continued to look at her with pride and mine with indifference neatly hid behind his glasses. I don't understand how neither of them could see, looking in those blue eyes, I almost drowned. This, by the way, is an awkward situation when you're not around any liquids.

''Hey, you made me fall the other day'' Yeah. I'm so slick and charming. I just know exactly what to say... I mentally fail myself.

The delicate blond just sends a shy smile my way and nods.

''Ash, how bout you take Spencer here dancing while I finish this deal off with Arthur'' Arthur looked like he wanted to say something, but kept it in. His jaw clenched as if to keep words from coming out. I think maybe, just maybe, he didn't want me dancing with his daughter. Maybe.

I lead Spencer to the dance floor and her arms made their way around my neck as mine came to rest around her waist.

''I'm sorry if this is awkward.'' I say and shrug a little. I mean, poor girl, I wouldn't wanna dance with myself either. Well, probably for different reasons. I wouldn't wanna dance with myself because I'm totally not my type, but her maybe it goes more along the lines that we haven't spoken more then 2 times, and the 2 times I was the only one who… oh. Okay. Shutting up, right now.

I take time to look at her. She doesn't look like she's under torture.

''So,'' I'm praying the next thing I say wont sound as stupid as I think it will sound. ''My father told me that you were mute. At first, I thought you didn't talk to me cause you were snob-ing me, that first day we met, and then I was kinda glad, well I mean not glad that… you know, just that…well…'' At this point I'm as red as that old lady's lipstick. You know, technically, I don't believe this is my fault. I'm sure I was born with a foot in my mouth and my mother had it surgically removed and never told me. Symptoms of being born with a foot in the mouth don't actually disappear.

''What I mean is that do you sign?''

She doesn't seem bothered by the way I speak nonsense. She smiles and nods. She points a finger to me. You're giving me a little too much credit pretty blonde, I massacre my native language daily, so I've given up on learning other ones in fear of starting a nuclear war or something.

''Nah, I can't, to be honest, I only know how to sign 'fucking', and that's because I learnt it on The L word.'' Adding Jodie to The L World was one of the most instructive things they did for my life.

Then I let go of her waist to show her. She goes on to do the cutest thing I've ever seen. I can't really explain it. She kind of laughs a little… well without the sound, and without the awkward 2nd chin.

So then I'm like, ''But how to you speak with people who don't know how to sign?''

She pulls out a cell phone out of the little purse she had. And types before showing me the screen 'Just like this'. If I were her, I'd be thanking the cell phone companies for making cell phones with the whole key board thing. I type on regular cell phones as well as my grandma can chew without her fake teeth, and look just about as attractive.

*****

I'm lying down on my bed. I'm pretty much being bored and doing nothing when I remember the paper on the nightstand right next to me. The one with Spencer's number, the one she gave to me. I contemplate whether or not to text her for about 15 minutes when I realise something very important.

I don't have a cell phone.

So the reflex is to just;

''MOOOM!'' scream out like an award-winning spoiled child. I mentally roll my eyes at myself. She yells back at me to tell me to stop screaming. To be quite frank with you, I miss that time where I forced them to get walkie-talkies. This house is either too big or I'm too lazy. I like to think a little of both.

I run downstairs and tell her that I need a cell phone. She can't really argue with me because we have money, I'm 16, I rarely ask anything of her, and because this week at her meetings they're covering positive reinforcement. _Positive__Reinforcement:__making__spoiled__children__ever__since__it__became__illegal__to__spank__them_.

She even shows her overly white teeth as she tells me she's going to get one for me tomorrow. My response is delayed because the whiteness of her teeth is awfully distractive and hurtful. Don't tell me she went to get them whitened again. Christing lord, Ma, it's not because you can, that you should.

''Oh, and could you get me the ones with the little key boards?''


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter****Two**

It's ironic.

I've always felt like I wasn't really heard. Seems stupid coming from me right? But you know that feeling? As if on the journey from your head to your mouth, the meaning, what you really meant to say got lost in what you actually did say. Since as long as I can remember people have told me stuff like 'Shit Ash, you really do like hearing the sound of your own voice'. But I don't think that's it. I think I get nervous. I think it scares me to know that I don't have an endless amount of time to say the truth. I think I'm scared to not get another chance to say what I mean to say.

I take a quick glance at her before continuing to play the hole in my shoe. She was looking at me. I feel stupid.

I've just come back from another endless school day, and I skated to the drugstore for some Pepsi, and when I came back I saw Spencer sitting on the sidewalk in front of her house. I haven't said much but hello, and I thought she might want to say something, but she looks like she's just happy with the silence. I'm pretty sure I would be too if I was her and was with myself.

But the thing is that, I think silence gets awkwardly scary sometimes and my reflex is to just;

''you wanna go draw a moustache on my mother's face? She's sleeping like a passed out hobo on the couch.'' Fake moustaches always put me in a good mood.

She does that cute laughy thing again and shakes her head.

''Come on. I'm bored, you're bored, drawing a moustache on my mother's face would probably turn into one of those TV moments, like we'd totally bond and become best friends. I'll even let you choose the style, I won't even influence you with the use of peer pressure.'' I even add a sigh and a dramatic shrug to convince her of my almost honest intentions.

She takes out her cell phone and types;

''You make it sound like you've done it plenty of times before''

Then I'm chuckling lamely for a little while as I get flash backs of all the moustaches I drew on my mom. Come on, don't look at me like that, it's my only weakness. Go draw a sharpie moustache on your mother and come back, see if you're still looking down at me. And if that doesn't work, the make her get mad at you with that moustache still on, you'll be a goner, trust me.

Man, I should have taken pictures of all those ones I've drawn through the years. I even remember my first one; I was 8, with a blue Crayola, and That-guy-on-the-chip-tube-thing type. Okay, must get back to reality, cause she's looking at me like I'm either really morbidly obese, or crazy. And I'm 124lbs, so, morbidly obese is out.

''Drawing moustaches? I've invented that art. But the bonding, feel special, I usually avoid the human society.'' And she deals with my stupidity by smiling at me.

Then I suddenly wonder about the girl. I mean, I don't even know her favourite color, and I'm sitting with her here, and offering her one of the 'best things' I can do. Then I wonder if she ever feels like she's never heard. Obviously she isn't, literally, but I mean more figuratively. Just being next to her, her presence takes place, and it seems to me like she's the clearest, loudest person I've met. But does she think so? Is there one thing she would like to scream out to people that dare have what she for some reason, doesn't? To the ones like me who don't make anything of that luck? Is there something that's grown to be a lie in her life and she can't fix because she doesn't have the tools? I'm wondering but I can't bring myself to ask her any of those personal questions.

The sun is setting and it makes even this dead end town seem beautiful, special.

"Okay, not today. But someday?'' She smiles back at me, and nods.

"Promise?'' I add, and present her my pinkie.

And as holds my pinkie with her's, I realise how better the sun rays and colors look on her face.

"Alright then. It's a deal, you pinkie swore. If you break this promise, you know it's a federal law to for me to kill you." I lift my eyebrow just in case she didn't know how serious I was. Which I wasn't that much really, but I mean, who am I to deny a chance at eyebrow lifting am. Nobody, that's who.

After our talk, I went home. Then in my room; it was a Friday night, a couple of my friends invited me over for some things they were having, I had plenty of things to do. So I don't know why I stayed home that night and stayed awake till 4:30 in the morning, learning how to sign.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

I don't usually spend time with my mother. We don't have much in common but our love for Dr. Phil. That's one man that can wear his hairless head, and moustache, and make it look great. But then some woman came on the show, and she said she could trace down every important event in her life, and that from those events she could see every single path she could have took, having made different choices.

I think we aren't aware enough of the importance our actions have. One tiny action can change generations. For example, if my grandfather had told my father that he could do whatever he set his mind to, and that he would support him, my father most probably wouldn't have the job he has now. My grandfather wouldn't have died young because of a heart attack caused by stress and my father wouldn't have done all those school years to end up stuck in an office to make his father proud. And if my father hadn't taken that job, he would probably have a job that made him home a little more, and if that would of happened, who knows how I'd be. I'd probably be a much more stable person, and if I would be someone better, I probably wouldn't grow up to raise children that are going to end up hating me when they're old enough to understand that I'm not the best parent around.

So I guess I should remind you that we should always try to be the best we can be.

The point of this is to say that today, I was fully aware as I stepped into the cafeteria that I was gonna have to make one of those choices I remember years later.

I saw my friends sitting at their usual table. One of my good friends, Frank, waved at me and smiled. But you and I both know I wasn't looking for him.

I spot her sitting at a table in the corner of the room. She's sitting with a girl I know to be her 'speaker', some girl in most of her classes that has a def and mute mother and can read her signs for when she needs to talk. Personally, I would find it annoying to have someone talk for me and follow me like a 2nd shadow and all, but I guess she doesn't have the choice. I doubt throwing her cell phone in some teachers face when she needs to talk wouldn't be too convenient. There are a couple of other people sitting with her, but they don't seem to be talking to her, or interested in her much. I can't help but get a little angry at that. But I'll give that to her, Spencer might not be having the time of her life, but she sure can blend in just fine.

Here is where I have to choose a path. But the thing is that; I don't think I even hesitated for more then a few seconds before walking to Spencer's table.

''Hey, you look jolly!'' I say, I guess a little too cheerful for when you use the word jolly. Jolly is a word to be used with caution. She gives me a look that says boldly 'Are you kidding me'.

''Come on sunshine! It's a beautiful horrible day! The rain is pouring, the teachers are boring, and if you're lucky like me, you're skating home, to come back drenched and very much smelling like wet dog, and you therefore won't have a date for Mike's party Friday because no one likes smelly people! Here's something to be happy about!'' I tell her with my faux cheerful voice. I can tell she's not having one of her best days. I'm not good when it gets too personal. I'm a disaster if you put me with someone crying or really hurt. I never know what to say but bad jokes and swear words.

''It gets better, you know?'' I shrug; I gave her an honesty I haven't in a long time.

She's a smart girl and releases. She looks at me and smiles slightly.

Today she looks heavy. Like something is just bringing her down. I don't know what to make of that.

I turn to look at the table, The Hulk on my lunch box, looking at me sweetly as he flexes his green muscles. For some reason, I only love men when they're fictitious monsters. I feel like I'm 13 when I walk around with it, but that simple stupid kid lunch box makes me feel so happy. I nudge Spencer and show her The Hulk, and I guess it works on her too because she smiles at me.

I'm humming a Pussycat Dolls song I got stuck and glued to my head as I unpack my Pepsi, ranch dressing and croutons. Oh why yes, I am making healthy choices.

I offer Spencer some of my Pepsi; I hope she knows that I don't want to make a habit out of this. This is a special occasion. I tend to get violent when people don't realise that one sip, is actually that, _one_ sip. She shakes her head.

So I'm like; ''Okay then.'' And I'm kinda looking at her like she's not completely a real human being.

And then I'm like ''I wont beat up if you want a sip,'' I take a look at her juice. It's from the lunch ladies. It's purple. ''Come on, its okay, your juice is purple. I almost owe you this.''

I say all that is made purple, isn't meant to be eaten. Like grapes, purple cool-aid, Hulk's shorts and purple Nerds. She hides her smile behind my bottle as she takes a sip.

The days seem to pass so fast. Tomorrow is Friday. Again.

I see her sign something to that girl, and she signs something back.

I won't tell Spencer that instead of skating, watching documentaries and playing zombie games, I've been spending all my time learning how to sign on this online site. And I won't admit to anybody else but myself that I've never studied so hard in my life. Spencer said something about me, and to ask, and house, and that's all I was able to catch, they're going a little to fast for me.

''Spencer wants to know if you want to hang around at her place tonight, maybe stay for dinner,'' The 2nd shadow says, ''And she says that her dad has been working so much these days, he hasn't had much time for personal grooming, so he almost has a moustache…''

I look at Spencer with my mouth open. I totally melt. She grins. Ew; she's so disgustingly cute.

So I'm like, ''Yeah for sure.'' I also take a few seconds of my time to send dirty looks to the 2nd shadow.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

There are a lot of things that make me want to be a more suicidal type person. Yellow cars, that's my first one. Then it's cocky men, for two, and my hair, for three. No matter what I do with it, it's the same, unruly mop every single day. I usually wouldn't complain, because I don't really care all that much about the way I look. But tonight, it's really different. I'm going to be in Spencer's house. Like where she lives with her mother and father. To make it all that much more like hell, I'm going to have to eat with them, without it being like some mandatory job party. So that's why after school, I literally, ran home, changed into the most parent approving clothing I had, and have spent the last 30 minutes wasting precious minutes of my so very short life by trying to comb my hair down and make it look clean.

As one can easily guess, I turn into a real clumsy, babbling, nonsense mess, when I'm nervous. So that's why I want to distract them with my casual, okay-to-be-friends-with-your-daughter-and-I'll-probably-also-be-a-good-influence look. And you might be like, 'Ash, chill out, it's not like you're meeting the parents of your girlfriend, you're being a drama queen, and also a dick'. And to that I'll say you're a dick for calling me a dick, and that you don't know how bad I am with parents. Last time I met one of my friend's, who happened to be a girl, parents. They _grounded_ her. I won't even tell you what happened with the spaghetti sauce.

And this is important because Spencer is an okay person.

And I don't want bad karma.

My mother has the worse timing and walks in the room as I'm having a Tourette's syndrome outbreak. She gets straight to the point.

''What in the lord's name are you trying to do?''

''It's my god damned, incest-loving, Italian hair. It won't allow me to make it passable for normal stupid human hair.'' I'm frowning so much at it I'm actually getting a headache. "I hate you for giving me the worse genes in the history of life."

''Oh no. Ashley, please tell me you're not going to start dating that Lucy girl again… she's no good for you, I still remember last time-'' She has it all wrong.

''No Mother. I don't have a date. I'm going over to Spencer's house for supper.''

''_Who_?" She seems to have a hard time remembering. It's most probably because her teeth are radioactive in the process of being extremely white. "You mean Arthur Carlin's mute daughter?'' Her eyebrows are not becoming one with her hair line. I forget to remind her that it looks like total shit when she does that.

''Mom, what you just said made you sound like a big veiny dick.'' She ignores my insult for the first time in a while and she's like;

''Ashley, look, I know you don't consider any of my advice as worthy of consideration. But I don't think you should hang out with the girl, there has been a lot of things going around about that family-'' I cut her short;

''By 'things going around' you mean prehistorically ancient, dried up and miserable women at your (I use this word very loosely) Mothers group, talking shit about everyone. I'm not gonna stop hanging out with _Spencer_, because Martha Stuffed-Trout, the 53 year old sugar mama, said some stupid bullshit that she could of gotten out of any reruns of old soap operas.''

She looks at me that way only a mother can. That little way that you just feel like giving in, you know? But I won't. There have been many other occasions she could have easily saved me from stuff I didn't need, but wasn't there, or ignored all the signs.

So I'm like; ''now I'm gonna go to Spencer's. I'll be back tonight.''

Seconds before I get out the door she tells me, in a way that she hadn't expected me to hear;

''Please don't get yourself into something you can't get out of.''

I turn around, a little shocked by her honesty. I nod and then get out of the door.

I feel like I'm leaving a little piece of me behind.

I fix my clothes, simple skinny jeans and a surprisingly not loose t-shirt, before knocking twice.

I hear noise before Spencer opens the door, in a rather fast manner I might add.

It's a bad time, but my heart decides it wants to cramp up right that moment. I roll my eyes at this. Body parts; so annoying. Spencer took off that pony tail she had today at school, and golden curls are flowing past her shoulders in a picture moment type of fashion. She takes in what I'm wearing, and the fact that my hair looks the neatest they have looked in the past 17 years, under my cap. She grins at me like she found out my little secret.

''You're so annoying.'' Her grin turns into a smile, and I can't help but give it back to her.

I walk in and take off my hat. Hoping that it can make me seem like a polite and well rounded person. Did it work? No, not really.

So apparently I was immobile because she takes my arm and we end up in a room that is obviously the kitchen.

She signs to her mother something like, ''Mom, this is Ashley.''

And her mother frowns at her. God, give me a break, I didn't even say anything yet!

Her mother signs back, ''you invited someone over… today? I thought maybe we could go see , he called-'' And Spencer starts signing right then. I think in sign language she totally cut off her mother.

''No. I don't want to make a big deal of today. I wanted to invite her over, so I did. She makes me feel better about today then any stupid therapy can.''

O-kay. So I guess they don't know I've learnt how to sign too. What day is today? Her birthday? Is she _allergic_ to it? Lordy, I'm so lost.

''Now I want you to forget all about today. I don't want any reminding. Please tell dad.'' Spencer signs.

Her mother now turns to me. She proves to me that she doesn't hate me yet by smiling, that same honest, almost shy smile Spencer does sometimes.

''Sorry about that, Ashley. I'm Paula, I'm glad to finally meet you, Spencer has told us a lot about you.'' She finally says. I don't know what to say to that. Because it's not like I can say, 'Nice to meet you to, but I mean, as far as I knew, Spencer didn't even have a mom'. It might be rude or something.

I turn to look at Spencer and it's my turn to grin at her like I caught her red handed, and I'm like ''Yeah, I can only imagine that, I've told her a lot about myself too. Not, I mean, not badly, like, I didn't brag about stuff. I don't even have things to brag about I mean more like, she always lets me talk, not that she would be rude and tell me not to, but she's always looking like I don't bother her so I just talk and I mean,'' Shit. I think I socially slipped.

''What I mean is that it's nice meeting you too.'' I'm blushing so hard my face feels like its melting off. I finally dig up the courage to look at Spencer's mother. She just smiles at me before giving a certain look to Spencer.

''How about you girls go sit down? Supper is going to be ready in a couple of minutes.''

Okay. So we all make mistakes. That top three of things that make me want to be suicidal it told you before? The first one isn't yellow cars, its awkward family eating. It's really painful to sit here in this awkwardness.

Spencer's father is looking at me like he wishes he had laser beams for eyes, Spencer's mother is just being quiet, and Spencer just keeps looking at me and for some reason it gives me sunburns.

Not good.

And in my head I keep repeating to not say something about the food. It's a very cliché thing to say in awkward moments where eating is involved.

But then Spencer's father is like: ''So Ashley, you must be pretty special for Spencer to invite you over _today_.''

You probably are thinking, aw, that's so sweet, he seems like a sweet dad. But no. He said it in a way that I wish Ashley wasn't my name. I gave him a smile that I thought meant 'Yeah, damn right I am', but managed to pull out one that said more like 'erughlagsha'. And while I was mentally throwing myself rocks, I didn't notice that Spencer had started signing to her dad. I caught the end, and she said, ''… so don't you dare''.

I didn't think I noticed at first. Or I didn't pay much attention, but right then, as everyone at that table but me, was exchanging the types of looks that you only understand if you're related, I realised to some extent what I got myself into. I guess I should have felt it when I walked into this house; the heaviness of a well hidden secret making the whole house seem as if it was way darker then it actually was. And I guess I should have felt it as soon as I sat with Spencer today, not noticing then that her eyes had settled on anything but me, her eyes telling inanimate objects something that she just wouldn't dare tell me. As I was sitting there and realised how little I knew, suddenly, Spencer's favourite color didn't seem so important.

So that's when I realised that Spencer was a vampire.

Then after the horrible staring contest they had, Spencer turned to look at me with her summer sky eyes. I knew what that look meant, she wanted to leave. Oh and I was kidding for the vampire thing; I joke when I'm nervous. It's not because she's morbidly beautiful that she's some vampire. And since she would be the vampire, this would turn out to be a story in which I'd have to be Bella Swan, and I would rather eat my own toe nails passionately.

So I was like: ''Yeah sure, just let me get the plates.'' I take hers and put on top of mine and;

''No, Ashley, its okay Arthur and I will do it. We don't usually let our guest clean up the first time they eat here.'' She smiles at me. Wow. She doesn't even hate me yet. Take that stupid Italian hair of mine. Hair – 0, Ash – 1.

I thank them for the food and all, and follow Spencer upstairs.

And as soon as I walk into her room, I suddenly know which color is her favourite. I mean, from the walls and the bed sheets, and the curtains, I'd have to say green. Just a little guess.

''So it's green.''

She looks at me and gives me the 'what the fuck' face. You know which one I'm talking about. It's probably the same face you would have done under those circumstances.

''I mean your favourite color. It's green right?'' She smiles at me and nods.

It's only then that I realise that she has a whole wall that is painted with one of those new chalkboard paints. When I first heard about that, I thought I was a sign of god. Paint that makes chalkboards. It's like Hagrid coming up to your crib and telling you that you're a wizard.

She takes a chalk and writes; ''you want to watch a movie?''

And it seems so fun, I can't help but pick up the purple chalk and write under her green writing.

''Yeah'' And I draw a nice smiley face.

She goes in her DVD collection and pulls out some movie. It's that one with Hannibal Cannibal something in it.

''Any movie is good by me, I mean, even though I think horror movies are totally over rated, I mean, god, I haven't seen a horror movie in years, because all there is to it is screaming and boring supposedly pretty girls and blood and death and I just…'' I stop. I swallow. I think of ways I could kill myself.

I look down and realised I actually signed that whole thing while saying it. Spencer is staring at me, with her mouth wide open.

Shit.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

You know, the worlds a pretty shitty place. I wouldn't lie to you, and say other wise. I was told once or twice, that I don't take life seriously enough. I guess what they meant to say is that one day I'm gonna look back and I won't have left much to make anyone remember me. But I think that's the way I have to live. You have to play it like a game. You do your best to win, but never get too involved, keep it cool, because or else no one will want to play with you. No one wants to lose you know? But we all eventually do. And people hate a sore loser much more then they hate a loser.

Don't assume you know someone, ever. For all you know, you really don't. But we all take guesses, and we all justify them with time spent with that person, and actions and words, but we don't know much of anything. You can't expect it when someone turns their back on you, or when you turn your back on yourself. You can't see those moments coming.

Spencer probably didn't expect this. Obviously, by the face she's giving me, she really didn't. Maybe she thought that way I always talk about myself, endlessly and rant about things that only matter to me, like green jellybeans and long haired carpets, meant that I really, only cared about myself. She probably assumed that I never thought about anything else really. She probably thought that I never thought about what I was gonna say before I did say it, since I never really made sense. She probably didn't expect me to spend nights and nights making my life a little harder, to make hers a little easier.

So all I guess I mean to say is that, don't assume you got someone all figured out.

''I know what your thinking.'' I say kind of loudly. She raises her eyebrow at me. God, the girl got balls.

She's looking at me in a way I don't even understand. She's kind of smiling, but kind of looking like I just hit her, but also kind of like we just had sex… so I don't really get it.

''It's totally not what you think. See. Its kind of a funny story…'' I start. ''I was actually raised by my mother in law and then turns out she was part of some organization, they were like an underground swat team, who like, saved lives, and all that overrated crap and so then she made me take on the throne, and then like I joined and got captured by D.E.B.S, and as a torture, they made me learn sign language, which was awful because you know like, I can't stay silent to save my life. And like, then my underground swat team found me, and brought me back home, and assigned me this case, and I'm actually not even your friend. I'm spying on you, to learn about your father because my aunt wants to steal his job because he's a Hobbit. That's the truth.'' I take in the motherfucker of all the deep inhales of the world.

She's looking at me like she didn't hear a word I said.

''Usually in movies, people stop being friends when they realise the other had ulterior motives.''

She's kind of tilting her head and biting her lip. And it kind of gives me heart cramps to look at her. I try to change the subject and I'm like:

''So yeah, whatever, it was easy learning. You going to Mike's party tomorrow? I hear it's gonna be big. I was thinking of-'' And for the first time ever she cuts me off.

''You're something so unexpected.'' She signs me. She's giving me this look. It makes me shrug, and I pretend that unexpected hasn't become the coolest word in the world.

''Nah, it's nothing, I had time.'' I say. I don't mention the 49% I got on my last Biology exam.

''Stop lying;'' She kind of laughs, shakes her head and then grabs the bridge of her nose. ''I can't believe you.'' She adds.

''You don't have to'' I tell her, kind of weakly, kind of pathetically.

''You understood earlier?''

I decided I would be honest: ''Yeah I knew the movements and all, and got them, but I don't have a single clue what you guys were talking about.''

''Is it your birthday?'' I add. She scrunches her nose at me and kind of laughs, as in to say what the fuck.

She shakes her head.

''Oh.'' I say.

''Then you wanna go to Mike's party with me?'' The girl looked really uneasy when she thought I knew what they had spoken about. I figured I could let it go and change to some other topic.

Again, she looks at me that way. As if that question came out of the blue and the blue happened to be a very pretty shade. She smiles shyly and nods.

''You want to go draw a moustache on my mom?''

Her smile grows and I can see little tiny dimples on her cheeks. She shakes her head, this time.

''Okay then, maybe some other time.''

I think about it before saying this thing I want to say. I think about the ways I could put it nicely, without sounding dumb.

''Spencer?''

She wakes up from that daze she was in and looks at me. I tell her softly, honestly: ''you know, I'm not someone great, I know that much, but I'm not someone totally awful either. One day you'll maybe think that too. Maybe you'll feel like you will be able to tell me and all.''

''I don't think you want to know'' She signs.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

I looked around, and Spencer wasn't at the table she usually sat at when it was warm outside. I really hoped she wasn't sick. So I went to sit with Frank and the rest of my friends I seemed to have forgotten.

''Yo Ash, where were you last night? I asked everyone at the park if they had seen you and no one had. You always come on Thursday.'' He says. I don't really know what to say that won't make him ask me questions, and then lead to him getting stupid conclusions based on irrelevant stuff.

So I'm like, ''Spencer invited me over. So what's up man? I heard from John that you got together with Emma last week…'' He usually loves talking about girls he hooks up with but doesn't this time. He's concentrated on what I said before.

''Ashley, I don't know get it. You hung out with someone on a _Thursday_?'' He's looking at me in pure disbelief.

I'm like, ''Yeah it's no life changing event.''

''Ash, it was _Thursday_. You hate the day before Friday. You usually can't even hold a conversation on that day. You barely can since you're usually in such a bad mood.''

And some stupid other person on my table decides to cleverly add, ''What, Ash did something with someone on a Thursday?''

I roll my eyes at them. It's clear now that I have spent too much time with them. God, it's normal for someone to forget their abnormal hatred for a day of the week.

''Look man, it's nothing. The girl asked me, and I said yes. That's it. No need to tell the National Geographic.''

''Who's that Spencer girl?'' He asks, kind of in a walking on egg shells type of manner, but orally.

''Some girl, that moved in a house down my street a couple of weeks ago.''

''Does she go to a private school?''

''No, stupid, she goes to this one.''

''Are you lying? Oh… oh shit. You're lying. You so fuckin' hooked up with Lucy again, no way man, I'm not letting you do this again,'' He's kind of starting to panic. He was the one around when Lucy decided she was done with me. We've been friends since grade 4. There's just something about having him throw a football accidently against my head and me going over to beat him up with that same ball that created a very strong friendship that has stayed strong for all these years.

''No, I swear, I haven't talked to Lucy since last time. Spencer's a whole real person and all.''

And he's like, ''have I met her? What does she look like?''

''She's a girl; she has some hair and a pair of eyes. Legs and arms and all that.'' I say. I don't know why I don't tell him how beautiful she actually is, and that when she walks in the hallways her eyes make people stop and stare, to not say drool. I don't know why I don't want him to actually know who she is and to start talking about how attractive she is, and asking me the usual Girl Questions. Usually I don't mind being a guy about this, but I just don't feel like it right now, I guess.

"Common, more details here, usually you-''He stops talking and I feel a hand tap gently on my shoulder. I turn around to meet blue eyes. She's smiling shyly at me, like she's kind of embarrassed by the attention she's getting from a couple of people at my table, who have just stopped their conversations to see what was going on.

God; they are so nosey.

She's even kind of blushing as she gives a small wave to the table. Erugh, she's so atrociously cute.

"You wanna sit?'' I finally manage to get out.

She shakes her head.

She signs, "you wanna walk with me? I couldn't find Jessica today.'' I guess Jessica is the name that belongs to her 2nd shadow of lesser beauty then the 1st one.

I'm two seconds from blushing. You know when I said I wouldn't admit to anyone how much I worked to learn sign language? The person at the bottom of my list, the one I would cut my little toe before telling what I did, would be Frank. Because I guess you could say it's not common for me to you know, work hard to learn something and talk with a girl for this amount of time without doing it to sleep with her.

So I pretend I wasn't able to understand what she signed and tried to play it casual by saying, "I can walk with you if you like."

I got up, and picked up my lunch box, and as Spencer's back was turned to Frank, I saw him making the universal sign for "Dammmmnnn she's hot". I flipped him off with politeness and grace before I followed Spencer.

At first, I didn't get why she brought me to the foot ball field. Then I was disgusted, because I thought maybe she brought me here so we could look at sweaty men, because apparently some straight girls find that attractive. And then I almost had a seizure, because that meant she wasn't able to guess by clothes that I was pretty much, how can I say this? I'm kind of, you know, realllllly gay. But she actually led me to behind the bleachers, where there was shadow, and not much of anybody.

She's lying down on the grass and I keep looking at her making sure she's not talking to me. She has her eyes closed and she looks like she belongs in a glass box.

I don't know what to say. It doesn't happen often, but it does.

So I choose the next best option; to annoy her.

I look for small rocks and throw them at her. I roll my eyes at myself; I don't even throw them, I more like drop them on her.

She opens her eyes and looks at me and mouths 'stop it' before closing them again. She tried to hide the smile that appeared on her lips, but failed pretty bad.

I guess that made two of us.

There are some things I wonder about the time where they weren't cliché. You know? Like the first time someone said something so universal, that everyone had to use it at least once. Like I don't know, things like a picture says 1000 words or you make my heart skip a beat or some other over said cheesy saying. I really wonder if there was a time where a guy gave some girl flowers, and she was like 'wow! What an original idea! What a marginal boy!'

You might be wondering why I'm thinking about that. Ashley Davies: the girl who doesn't even do the date in dating

Well. I'm kind of throwing rocks at Spencer's window.

Yeah. I know. I failed myself earlier.

You might be thinking, doesn't she have a phone? Can't you just go knock on her door?

I tried her phone many times, she doesn't answer back to my texts. I can't call her house phone or knock on her door because it's kind of 12 at night. Last time she texted me, a few hours ago, saying she couldn't go to the party with me tonight because he father didn't want her to. Nothing more and nothing to explain.

So I guess you can say I'm kind of worried. I guess you could also say that I really want to go to the party with her.

And finally before I broke her window, she poked her head out, looking like she was about to kick the shit out of the dumbass that threw rocks at her window. That expression melted right off her face when she saw it was me.

''What in the fuck are you doing?''

''I'm saving you from the dungeons, you ungrateful princess.'' I sign back.

''I told you I can't go.'' That's what she says, but she's got a look on face that tells me she's already sold.

I look at her, and give her the smile I would do on my school picture if I still cared, and shrug, giving her a look that I'm sure said, 'you're coming, no matter what'.

I try to censor my reasoning, "Common Spencer, don't be a dick!"

She signs, ''Give me a few minutes.''

We get to the party, the music instantly creating a new pulse in my body. Most people are already pretty wasted. I look at Spencer to make sure she's okay, and she's okay enough to make stomach shrink. We've barely stepped in the house when some girl literally jumps me.

''ASHLEYY!'' Well, hello drunk, nice to see you again from another perspective.

It's all very awkward. I don't know why, maybe because this weird girl is the clingy, borderline, stalker type. And she seems very drunk. And Spencer's right next there, and I can feel her presence burning off the side of my face.

''Yeah… no, get off Wendy.'' She fails to realise that I did not call her by her actual name, but one that belongs to a fast food restaurant's mascot. She tries to kiss me, but her drunk self just pretty much falls to the ground. I grab Spencer's arm and walk away, kind of fast.

I look at her, ''a friend?'', she signs. Her eyebrow raised and looking like she's kind of challenging me to something. To tell the truth, maybe.

''Yeah, well no. Actually. I mean. You know what I mean right?'' She just continues to look at me with that same look, grinning like a motherfucker. God, couldn't she make this a little easier for me?

''Well I'm you know, kind of, on that other team… you know.'' I'm pretty much looking at my feet and my face is pretty much really warm.

She just grins and is like; ''what? I don't understand.''

''Well Spencer. I'm like, just, a skirt lifter?'' I sigh and mentally slap myself. ''I mean I'm gay. Just really gay, not like spaghetti gay, straight till wet, I mean gay, really lesbian gay. Like I smile at boobs and vomit at penises gay.''

I finally dare looking at her; ''Oh, I knew that silly.'' She's enjoying that torture she just made me go thought. ''I mean is she you're girlfriend?''

I'm totally exasperated with life. ''No, she's not you sadistic little girl. God you could of asked me that simply, you dick. Here I was thinking you had no gaydar whatsoever.''

''Nah, mine's perfectly working.'' She grins again like a cocky… like something really cocky, while I'm probably looking like a fish not knowing what to say to that.

''I'm just… I mean, well just, go dance and I'll just like… go get drinks that aren't drugged or something…''

I skim the crowd trying to find Spencer. I find her, and it's now obvious to me that she wasn't always like this. That probably at her old school, she was one of those kids everyone knows the name of. And that dancing at a party like this, had once been part of her weekly routine.

Call me a creepy stalker, but I just stand there and look at her. You'd think that no one who could dance to this dirty music could make it look cute but she does. She's dancing alone, has a little distance from everyone around her, but I know it won't be too long before some meat head tries to pull the moves on her.

I'm too late, as I start to walk towards her, two guys decided to make a human sex sandwich out of her. Before I can tear both of their male parts off, something happens to Spencer. I mean, not that I'm encouraging those guys, but they weren't doing something _that_ wrong. Well, nothing wrong enough to both receive a nut cracking of their, well their nuts.

Even from where I'm standing, I can see Spencer shaking, like her head is stuck in one of those bad winter storms. You know the ones that make the whole house cold, even if you put the heating to the maximum? Those ones. She runs out before I have time to think a little more.

I find her outside sitting on the sidewalk, under one of those street lights. She's hugging her knees, her chin resting on them. She's looking down that street like there's something she could find that could make her come back together.

I don't really know what to do. I walk slowly towards her, my hands still holding tightly the beer I got earlier. I don't really know what to say. So I drop the beer and go to sit next to her.

''I can go kick their ass again if you want…'' Erugh, don't burn me. You know I can't stand the silence. And you know I can't deal with people who are seriously hurt. I swear, last summer, when my cousin Mick dislocated his jaw, we were playing extreme baseball, which is actually a pretty cool game, you don't even play with balls, you use another baseball bat as the ball and okay. Totally off topic. What I mean is that he had to scream at me to call 911. And with a dislocated jaw, one can only imagine how it sounded, and wonder how I managed to understand.

''I'm serious, I can, or I can just go ask Frank to pretend to hit on them, it scares them shitless…''

Then I shut up. I look at her. I take her in. Then it hits me like a bus.

When I was a kid, before all my friends were pretty much boys, I had this friend, who was a girl, I don't remember her name, but I know I always called her Sally. I know what you're thinking, shut up and get to the point and all. But the thing is that, I found out later her father was violent, that he used to hit her all the time. And I found out a while after that, when I was old enough to understand, that he had raped her. Which was the reason Sally and her mom disappeared from our town, and one morning I woke up, and Sally wasn't at school anymore, and Sally's mom wasn't spending time on her already perfect garden.

The relevance? Sally also got like this, that same look in her eyes, those same body movements, that same petrified trance like state.

So all I manage to get out with that heart stopping, head clogging realization, is,

''Oh fuck no.'' She looks at me with that same look she gave me the first time we were properly introduced. I should have known then. I don't know how I didn't.

I move a little closer to her, and I slowly put my arm around her body, seeming so small at this moment.

I hold her tight for a long time. I don't know if she's trying to hold on to me harder then I'm trying to hold on to her.

I didn't call a taxi, as I would have usually done. Even if the guy's house is like 15 minutes from mine.

I didn't think Spencer was in the mood to see anyone. Even me being with her was pushing it, I think. But she eventually calmed down.

I reached for her hand, giving it a soft squeeze, which I hoped told her, 'it's going to get better, you know? Eventually it will, simply because the world owes it to you'. And she didn't let go of it, even when we were facing her house, I think it was her way of saying that she believed me.

She doesn't go in, she doesn't move. She just stares at the house.

''Do you want me to go in with you?''

She shakes her head and signs, ''can I sleep at your house?''

I don't know why my heart chooses that time to start playing basketball with itself.

''But your dad, you weren't even aloud out, and even less with me at some party, because I mean, he really doesn't seem to-''

''He's working tomorrow. He won't have the time to check on me.'' She signs.

I nod and say ''Okay.''

We make it to my room. My mother is used to it, so there's no creeping around, no more stress to add.

I check my drawers for some pyjamas. Truth is, I think I stopped having that the year I turned 14. So give her a loose Cannibal Corpse shirt, the Tomb of the Mutilated one. For two reasons, first one being that that CD has the first song I ever heard of them on it and second one being because nothing will want to hurt you if you have a Cannibal Corpse shirt. True, you-could-google-it facts.

I give it to her, and it earns me a small honest smile.

''You want me to find you some boxers? I probably have-''

''No, its okay Ashley'' She's probably going to feel much better without that perfect, tight shirt, hugging her body, and making her look like she has absolutely no flaw on her body. Which feels horrible, fyi.

I turn around so that she can put it on. And so I can avoid a heart attack.

I start unbuttoning my shirt. Don't worry; I'm not doing a badly timed strip tease. I have a wife beater under. That's what I sleep in, you know, like every other self respecting lesbian. Spencer's presence is still burning wholes in my back. And even more so when I unzip my jeans, slip out of them and kick them to the corner of my room, with my shirt, leaving me in my boxers. My boxers that accidently have Hulk's beautiful green face on the left.

I don't know where I'm going to sleep, since I don't want to leave her alone, you know just in case she turns out to be klepto… or in case I'm being stupidly cheesy and don't want her to feel alone. I go grab an extra blanket and a pillow with a big green screaming Hulk. Yeah okay, it's not an obsession it's called having unbelievably good taste. Don't judge.

''What do you think your doing?'' She signs and gives me this like, displeased look.

''Picking up my things to sleep?'' I must really look like I'm 13 again with my rainbow blanket and Hulk pillow.

''Come sleep with me,'' She more or less commands. By more or less, I mean more. My mouth finds this a perfectly good time to practically drool.

''Please?'' She adds and gives me this look. I nod and go and put my blanket on her, because it's cold inside. Our maid, Ulga, whose real name is unknown to me, is going through menopause. We have this on going war, because she makes this house go to ice age temperature. Then I make it go back to normal temperature, well, the one that we'd have if we lived in Cuba, since I hate the cold. It gets pretty violent sometimes.

I climb on my bed, and go on that side that's against the wall, since she's on the side of the bed that you can fall out of. Who knows, maybe she's claustrophobic or something. I don't really know how to place myself. It's the first time I sleep with someone else I feel I need to be careful with.

It doesn't take much time before she turns and faces me.

She tries to make the situation a little less heavy by saying, ''you honestly thought I didn't know you were gay?'' She signs then lifts up my rainbow blanket to prove her point.

I just smile at her.

''You can hold me, you know.'' She mouths, and for some reason, I think she didn't expect me to catch that. But I did, and she turns her, so her back is facing me.

So I do just that. I hold her like I need to hold her just as much. I hold her like I'm afraid she's just going to fall into pieces and melt away.

I mean, it's never really happened to me before, holding a girl who made my hands shake as she laced hers with mine.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

I never really thought of myself as different from the other girls. It sounds odd coming from a boyish, weird but preferring the term eccentric, gay girl, but it's true. It's only recently, when I went shopping that I realised otherwise.

I was scanning the clothes indifferently, as was the girl beside me. We both were looking for something to make us look sexy for school. It was only when I thought a little more that I realised the difference. What I thought could make me look sexy was a stripped long sleeve shirt, looking like it was made for boys, but yet happened to be in the girl's section. And what she apparently thought could make her look sexy was a revealing shirt with a v neck. We both had a necklace, she had a silver cross hanging from a delicate chain, and I had a long chain with a small Mr. Potato moustache that hung from it. We both spent time doing our hair this morning, she had added mousse or whatever to her curls to make them look clean and shiny, and I just combed mine and ran a hair through them. She probably liked hanging out with her friends and going to parties, and the thing that entertained me the most was drawing moustaches on my mother and going to my grandmother's old person home (elders rhymes with gangsters for a reason people). She probably couldn't wait to get a car, and I promised my skateboard that I wouldn't ditch any ride in the world for it.

So, I don't need to say that I felt pretty lonely that day. I haven't ever really had a real friend who was girl and I haven't tried either. I get along with boys. I mean, I like sports and dirty jokes, hooking up, swearing, skating and spitting (to an extent). And even the girls I hooked up with, even Lucy, I never really felt connected with. We fitted but only because of the contrast, not our similarities.

I slowly woke up, and became more and more aware of the relaxing breathing of person I was holding. My eyes focused on the blond next to me.

She was still asleep, her face turned towards me. Her blond waves spread across my pillow like they were meant to be there, the black shirt had risen a little higher, exposing a pale hip bone, hugged by black underwear. And it didn't matter who she would be in the afternoon or night, because in the morning she seemed just like me.

''Ashley! You're up early!'' I look at the time: 11:12.

''Weren't you supposed to meet up with your group this morning?'' I ask her, I really don't want her to be there when Spencer comes down stairs. For obvious reasons. I don't feel up for her stupid assumptions and all.

''No silly, that's tomorrow! Why, would you like to join us?'' I do this really big, attractive snort, and almost laugh.

''Yeah, just after I wax my eyebrows off.''

''Honey… I don't think that's the-''

''Oh but I do. The chicks dig the whole, I-can't-tell-if-you're-frowning look.''

She's like, ''Ashley, how many times have I told you to not use the word chick? It sounds so ridiculously tacky.''

I roll my eyes, ''Anyways, where's Ulga. I need waffles.''

''The maid's name isn't Ulga it's…wait a second…'' She pauses and looks like she's looking real deep in her head.

So I let a cry of joy. ''See! You don't know her name either!''

''Well, I sure do know it isn't as horrid as Ulga. What is it again? Linda? Sandra? Wanda? My bet is on Wanda.''

More waffles, less taking, ''Wanda, Ulga, Wulga, whatever, just find her, I actually would need a decent breakfast this morning.''

''What's so special about this morning? You finally came to the conclusion that ranch dressing isn't a part of a mature healthy breakfast?''

''Shut all the nonsense up, moustache face, its totally normal for me to not be craving Renee's Caesar dressing this morning-'' I cracking coming from the stairs. Oh hell no.

Spencer suddenly appears in the kitchen. I say appear because I didn't really, I mean, it's pretty hard to focus on life when you've got this, you know, typical, average perfect looking girl looking like she's only wearing a shirt with one of your favourite bands on it, and has her annoying golden hair looking perfectly messy. Blah, whatever, casual, you know?

My mother keeps a solid smile on her face and whispers for only me to hear, ''If you slept with Arthur's little girl, you know I love you honey, but I am not going to your funeral.''

To make Spencer feel a less awkward I say, ''Yes mother, your yeast infection cream is upstairs.''

Spencer laughs, I think she knows I wasn't serious, but I mean, either way, my mother deserves it.

My mother ignores me and is like, ''So Spencer, how about waffles this morning?''

Okay, so were going to try something. So you and I are just hanging out, and I ask you what you want to do. I have money, you have money, a big house practically empty, with the exception a mother who's snoring on the couch downstairs because she tried to watch the The Tyra Banks show and failed.

The options are endless.

You would choose something wild and cool, and even probably, something kinda gross. Right?

Yeah.

But not Spencer. I ask her what she wants to do. She says she wants to watch that stupid movie, Silence of the Death of Ashley, or whatever. And you're probably thinking, didn't you guys watch it last time? My answer to that is yes and a couple of swear words. I don't watch movies twice. I don't, I can't stand it, because by then I have the whole movie memorised. But here we were, watching it, again.

And I say were because the movie is over. I think I'm just a little too polite, because after that, I asked her what she wanted to do next.

''You're so ambitious, aren't you? You know what you look like to me, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A well-scrubbed, hustling...''

She wanted to watch it again.

Fuck my life.

The movie is now half done and I cannot stand it anymore. I stand up and run towards the TV to shut it off.

I turn around, looking like someone who just escaped death.

''What the fuck'' She signs and laughs.

''I can't do this anymore Spencer… I just cannot watch the same movie over and over-''

She pouts and is like, ''But it's my favourite movie…''

I roll my eyes and turn around to turn the stupid TV back on, but she claps to get my attention.

''It's okay, we can watch something else. I'm actually surprised you didn't say something earlier.'' She grins.

I roll my eyes. ''I hate you.''

''Are you kidding me? You just watched the same movie with me three times, when its now clear that you practically have a phobia of watching movies more then once. You actually love me.'' Erugh, she's so cocky.

I go sit on the couch. I know, I'm acting like a kid, but god. I take the remote and check the shows that are on. I come across a cooking show where a man with a particular moustache is baking a pie, and smile a smile with full of youth and warmth.

I look at Spencer and she's like, ''Sit on the ground, if were going to watch a boring show I might as well have something to do.''

I look at her, in any country; this is the universal face for 'what the fuck?'

She probably figures out that she didn't say a complete sentence and is like, ''to play in your hair.''

''Oh. Yeah. Okay, sure.''

It's been a while since I mean, I've done something like this you know? Most of my friends are boys; boys hit each other to say they love each other. The type of girlfriends I have, wouldn't know the color of the walls in my room. The only time I have physical contact with my mother is with a pen or marker, and you guys know the rest. And never mind my dad.

I guess that's why then my mother came in after a while to ask us if we needed anything before she left, she was surprised of the position she found us in. I think in some weird way, she almost wished she had found us making out or being awkward. Because then it wouldn't be too serious. Because then, it would be something that would be gone the next morning.

But as we were just sitting there, totally comfortable with the situation and kind of even peaceful, my mother had a hard time to get the whole sentence out.

Spencer has been gone for a while, her father called her, and then she had to leave.

When she left, I didn't know what to do with myself. I sat on the sofa in my room for a while. Not doing anything, letting the past hours and the ones of yesterday sink in. I felt like I was going to be sick. You know that feeling? Like, you're so sad that even your body physically feels it.

I felt empty and cold. I made my way to the bathroom, and quickly undressed.

And that's when it all hit me. At first I didn't understand it, I mean, all that hurt.

I stepped into the shower, the water no matter how hot, didn't seem to make me less cold as I thought of a fragile girl with some of her parts broken.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

''I am thinking it's a sign, that the freckles in your eyes are mirror images, and when we kiss they're-'' I sing rather badly, with my annoyingly raspy voice, along with song that has been on repeat for the past 30 minutes.

I've had this song stuck in my head for the past week, nonstop. And to be honest, I don't even like that band.

My friends turn to look at me, so I'm like, ''Yeah, singing, it happens.''

Some of them snort and chuckle and do whatever people do before turning back to what they were doing. We're currently outside, just sitting on this street near school. Like usual Spencer is spending her lunch with me. She's actually having a conversation/debate with Frank about whether or not Hannibal is gay. She says he's not and Frank says he is. The rest I don't care about, really. Turns out, girls like Spencer; who have a cat she hates, good grades, blond hair and chewed nails, are the type to become obsessed with fictitious serial killers. Who knew?

I'm not really paying attention to anything really, with the exception of Spencer. She's just being there and looking like this was made for her to do. Just like everything else. She's that type of person, you know? That type that even looks good when she's yawning. That same one most of us hate. So I'm sitting here on the sidewalk, and I'm looking at her, concentrated, really wondering why I don't hate her. She finishes typing something to Frank, looks at me and smiles, one of those carefree smiles that you wish you could have taken a picture of.

''-Perfectly aligned…'' I finish off.

Recently, I've come to the conclusion that I have some sort of virus.

''So yeah, I get like cold shivers, and my stomach feels uneasy sometimes, and random body parts start to get tingles, and mhm, sometimes that heart organ gets cramps cause it goes too fast or just doesn't seem to beat enough and all. So I think I caught some cold or hypothermia or something.'' I tell my mother.

And she rolls her eyes and is like; ''Ashley, it's probably the same thing as last time: nothing. You are the most hypochondriac person I know.''

She walks out of the living room and I mumble ''Dick.''

I start vibe-ing, and it takes me a few minutes to realise that it's not actually me, and my virus unknown to man kind, but my cell phone.

It's a text from Spencer,

''Come over. My father is gone for the night, you'll even be able to avoid awkward family time.''

I grab my cap, and I'm out the house within seconds.

I knock 2 times, and its Spencer's mother that answers.

''Hey Mrs. C, sorry, I forgot to bring the pie today…'' I say with a smile, an inside joke, created by the obscene amount of time I've spent here recently. I am just trying to be polite to the 'new' neighbours, really.

Spencer and I were in the kitchen. Just talking, and for some reason, I mean, Spencer had worn That Shirt that day, that gray one that makes her look just. I don't know. Like better than average, by like 1%. She was sitting on the counter, swinging her legs in an innocent, childish manner while I was playing with the fingers of her left hand as I did her the biggest favour, teaching her about how mittens should have 3 fingers, not 5 or 2, but 3 like the Cat in the Hat.

Her mother came in, and asked what we were up too, and when I think back at it, she said it pretty innocently, casually, without any trace of that parent warning voice. Like she just honestly wanted to know. But I guess it caught me off guard because I jumped away from Spencer like she was on fire or something.

''We were baking pie!'' I said, rather loudly and extremely defensively. From the corner of my eye I could see Spencer laughing and her mother just looked at me with a very confused look.

Either way, Mrs. C has been mocking me since.

''Well, I guess some other time then,'' She gives me a smile back, ''Spencer is in her room.''

I make my way upstairs slowly. I knock twice on her door before letting myself in.

As soon as I take in the scene, I know that she feels That Way. She gets like that sometimes. It comes and goes, like the memories that probably cause it. She has her earphones on; I know what she's listening to before I can even hear it. She staring at her ceiling like it's a trap, and her body is not under her command.

I go lay besides her, staring at that same spot she is, trying to find out what she's thinking about. She acknowledges my presence by giving me one of her earphones.

''_Viva__lost__childhood__…''_ it sings.

We stay like that until the CD repeats itself, and then she turns her body so that she's resting her head on my chest. My heart is beating fast and it kind of makes me shy, because I know she can hear it with her bionic hearing. I play with her hair, because I know she likes it, and she draws little shapes on my stomach, because she knows I like it.

And we stay like that till she turns her IPod off, and I tell her,

''I'd still like you, even if you were a werewolf.''

She knows I'm so much more of a Vampire type of girl (pre-Edward Cullens, thank you very much). And by now she knows it's my way of saying that I won't leave. She moves her head so she's now looking at me. She's looking at me in _that_ way. Don't ask me what way that is, I have no clue.

''I'm sorry'' she mouths after a bit.

I pull a face, ''No, you should apologise for making me say quotes from Silence of the Lambs at random times, not just being here with me. You don't have to apologise for this.''

She smiles a little before snuggling closer to me, I can feel her breath on my neck, and I guess I'm allergic because it makes me have trouble breathing myself. I try to restrain myself from telling her that her breathing might give me a rash/sunburn, by the pure politeness of my soul.

And life is funny like that sometimes. One day it just gives you the most perfect girl to hold, and you can't even manage to tell her anything that really matters. You simply aren't able to tell her what she would really need to hear. I once heard that you don't need anything you don't have, and I always thought it was true. Until now, I guess.

I'm just lying there, and my movements stop as the thoughts clog up my mind. I so wish I knew the why, and the how, and the when. All those simple questions we were taught to answer when we were kids. It might not be right, but it scares me to hold some girl who looks perfectly okay sometimes and perfectly broken sometimes. In that type of way I don't want to guess what made her this way. Why those scars on and within her skin? Why those looks and family secrets? I kiss the top of her head, almost a reflex, gently, almost inexistent, so she won't question me about it.

''_Sunshine, oh sunshine, if you don't know why you shine, you have to go into the sun, you'll have to go inside…'' _

The softness of my voice surprises me.

Maybe it's just me, but Spencer has a changed recently. Not like her per say, but how she's been acting with me. I'd say she's physically clingy, without that 'get off me sloppy needy bitch' part of the word.

For example, right now, were just eating supper with her mom. And it's not awkward since it's just Mrs. C and us, and Mrs. C is cool. But where that 'clingy' part comes in is that she's just holding my hand hostage in her's.

Yeah I know, over thinking it and all. But still. It's just. It's not helping at those dreams I've been having that make me feel like the worse person on earth.

Yeah. I know. Life sucks.

But its just little things like that, which happen here and there, that are making me confused.

So I'm like, ''Can we go watch that Zombie movie after?''

She lets go of my hand and is like, ''will you tell me that part? The one with Clarice and Hannibal''

I smile.

In my sleepy state I press a kiss on Spencer's neck. She's sleeping close to me, our body parts all tangled up. The clock says 1:12 am. I untangle myself from her slowly, to not wake her up because she had a hard time falling asleep, and she needs her rest.

I now feel like I'm not able to sleep any more.

I make my way downstairs, knowing this house practically as well as mine, and reach the kitchen. I'm pouring myself a glass of milk when I hear someone's steps.

''Your up late.'' Mrs. C says as she comes to sit on a stool they have here.

''Nah, I just woke up. Spencer's asleep though. Do you mind I borrow some mild?''

''No, of course I don't mind. But anyways, that's good. She's been sleeping a little better recently.''

I don't know what to say to that because I think Spencer would actually need sleeping pills made for prehistoric horses, but I mean. I guess were all used to different things. So I just sip on my milk, knowing I look a little childish.

''I wish she had met you earlier.'' She says, her voice sharing with me a regret that seems to be eating away at her thoughts.

''What do you mean?''

She sighs, ''I don't know Ashley. I guess I mean to say is that you can't choose what happens to you, no matter what you do. Things just happen.''

Her tone of voice is one that makes you know that those words are ones you should remember. I'm confused as to why she says them though.

''Is this about Spencer? I don't, I just don't understand'' I say, I feel stupid.

''I'm not the one who should speak to you about this. Maybe one day she will herself. We've come a long way, so who knows?'' She says.

She exhales, like she had been holding in all this time, and smiles a weary type of smile.

''I'm just glad for this now. I never thought she would ever be this close to someone else again. Arthur didn't believe so either, and the people Spencer sees… they are paid to be positive, but you can see it in their eyes, they didn't believe so either. Yet there she is, she hasn't been this happy in just...'' She stops talking, like she realised she was saying things she shouldn't have. But I'm just hanging on her every word, waiting for her to give me more pieces to put together something, the truth? Spencer?

''It's okay Mrs. C, if you don't want say anymore. I'll just… go''

''It's alright Ashley. I'm just going to go back to bed too.''

I slip back under the blankets and before my arms can make their way around Spencer again, she turns around clearly half asleep and mouths,

''Where were you?''

I'm like, ''I just got some milk.''

Her nose is close to mine and it makes my heart hurt, being able to look at her this close.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Okay. So you dream to be and have a lot of things when you're a kid. Kids dream of being princesses or cowboys, becoming astronauts, of having cars or tucks or whatever else. You know; all that classic gender based stuff.

But me? Yeah, you know how that goes; I didn't want any of that stupid stuff. My deepest wishes, what I blew out my candles on my birthday cake for, was to live in a place where they sold lamps and to have my name changed to Castle, Castle Davies. Cast for friends, family and such.

Lucy used to always call me Castle, simply because I asked her to. I guess the whole her breaking my heart took the magic out of the name, and places where shadows were just lighter shades of light.

Spencer nudges me. I'm ripped away from the bits and pieces of memory I have of the place I once considered the best, and dropped into English class.

I try to glare at her but have a hard time when she teasingly signs,

''Stop not looking at me.''

With that shadow of a smile on her lips and something halfway between like and love dancing in her eyes, it's hard for me to even look at her.

So I whisper, ''If you didn't smell so bad, maybe I could look at you.''

It doesn't matter what I say, because she knows what it means. She smiles.

I scoot my chair closer to hers, so I continue to draw on the sides of her notes. I don't even think at this point teachers care anymore, about anything. By god, if I had to stand there and try to make 30 kids believe that what I'm teaching is actually important to real life, I'd slice my wrists in circular motions with the uttermost precision. Even then, I'd probably do a better job then this guy, but that's beside the point. So I draw little shapes, and rainbows, and flying chicken legs, and stick figures of us being killed by odd numbers… you know, what common everyday people draw all the time.

Her had stops writing down notes, and I feel the warmth of her stare on my cheek. When I finally look at her, I don't know what to do. It hits me hard and makes me feel a little too sober; I feel a sinking in my chest and shivers crawling over my skin. I look at her, and it's hard for me not to just lean over and kiss her.

''So Ms. Davies, how about you share your poem to the class.'' The teacher looks at me all cocky. Like this is like, the core and crown and life of his big master plan. I roll my eyes.

I take out a paper out of my pack pocket, all crumpled up and messy, and a couple of people snort or laugh, and he looks at me surprised I even have something. He almost had his finger on the intercom to send me to the principal's office or whatever.

So I start, my voice is trying to hide in the pack of my throat, but I force it out, for the sake of my grade;

''_She__didn__'__t__believe__in__how__stars__were,_

_And it seemed to her,_

_They were all one big star_

_But had been vandalized with thick thick scars,_

_Probably the fault of daddy's friends from the bar,_

_But the girl was so convinced it had been the same ones that did her's''_

I was reading it like I was on auto pilot, my mind swimming elsewhere. Would I actually have kissed Spencer? _Spencer_, of all those people I could want to kiss. Maybe I was just using that expression. I mean its common right? People say that all the time. Yeah.

Oh fuck.

''_She__met__a__girl__and__named__her__Lover_

_But the other girl, sad, a little more clever,_

_She called her Castle_

_That night Lover crept into the fortress,_

_Never left, ghosts almost catching up to her in the forest_

_Lived with Castle as if it was a harvest,_

_Castle Empty, Lover had nothing to invest''_

My head rushes back to sweaty palms, tingling skin and increasing heartbeats. I suddenly feel sick. My head rushes back to that first time I saw her, that that crushed soul in her eyes, I go back to that time at the party, that crumbing of her heart.

I've done a lot of good things in my life, just like I've done a lot of bad things. And to be honest, I don't know which is most prominent. I cannot even keep a simple assignment clean and free of stains, holes and folds. What if, by chance, life gave me an already broken girl to hold? What would I do then? What would happen then, of the fragile girl under my clumsy hands?

''… _Castle__broken,__holding__someone__else__'__s__pieces__''_

The class is silent and that scares me.

I look at Spencer, she's looking at me with that look that I've seen more times then I've said my own name. She's looking at me like she heard what I thought earlier and doesn't know what to make of it. Of me. It's getting awkward, so my first instinct is to;

''Actually, I didn't write this. I made Spencer write it for me in exchange for two of my vintage dinosaur magazines from the 80s. She didn't want to at first, so I added my virginity and it was a done deal.'' Say whatever.

Some people kind of laugh, but I think most of them are shock that this poem, unlike my last, 6 or 7 ones, aren't about walking teeth from Mars, pies or my uncle's moustache.

I get the courage to look at Spencer again. She's look past all of this, and she's looking right at me.

It's been a while since That Day. Also known as That Stupid Day That Ruined My Head to close friends, meaning me. I'm lying on Spencer's bed, staring at that boat shaped crack on her ceiling. She's cleaning her room because her mother asked her to, since for the first time in a while, her father is actually going to be there for super. My plans; before supper, throw myself down the stairs and pretend to have a broken leg and hypothermia.

I think it's going to work.

I finally look at her, and to make everything that much harder, she stops what she's doing and smiles sweetly at me. I roll my eyes. Yeah, Spencer, as if things like that help this situation.

My rolling of eyes makes her frown, so she gets lies down next to me, and sign's,

''You've been weird all week. What's wrong?''

I frown. I don't know. I don't know what's so wrong about this. And I didn't know what to do about everything I'm feeling, all the ifs and the maybes and the buts, so I chose the next best option, ignorance. Joy. It's put me in an edgy weird mood all week.

''It's nothing. I just keep thinking about how the cake is a lie.'' To a certain degree, I'm lying, I feel guilty for doing so.

She gives me a disbelieving look and is like, ''you're lying, you got over that weeks ago.''

I forgot how much time we've spent together. Before I can come up with something else, she moves closer to me, puts her hand on my chest and holds me.

It's all very confusing. Because how exactly are you supposed to tell to a girl who flinches away from everyone else's touch, that when she touches you, it's like it burns? To tell a girl who is mute, that she makes talking hard for you? Really, how exactly do you tell a girl who gets numb, whose eyes are a window to the charred remains of someone she used to be, how can you tell a girl that isn't really happy most of the time, that she's really the only thing that makes you happy? I don't think you can.

She looks up at me, worry and concern is painted boldly on her face. I try to wash it away by giving her a smile and blowing a raspberry on that place right below her jaw. Even thought I can't hear it, I can practically here her body giggling, which end's up turning into a full body tickle match.

I'm winning, FYI, that's why she pinned under me and her eye's are doing that thing Tyra Banks is always talking about. Sorry Tyra, I know you're all that great and an Amazon, but your eye-smiling ain't got much on Spencer's.

And I that's my last thought before I hear the door slam open and I feel my body thrown or pulled away from Spencer's.

''What the hell.'' I manage to get out as I rub that spot on my head I just bumped against the wall.

I look up, and I see Spencer's father looking at her and then me, his chest going up and down rapidly. Usually, my first reflex when I'm pushed, is to just you know, beat the crap out of that person. But he has a look on his face, like he's about to cry. I don't know what to make of that.

Spencer is looking at him with a look on her face that if it would have been aimed towards me, I would have jumped off a bridge.

She's like, ''what do you think you're doing.''

''I, well, erm, I thought, I thought…'' Yes Arthur, would you like to buy some sense?

He looks at me. Hey buddy boy, don't look at me, I'm still in shock and undecided as to what I'm going to do of what just happened.

''I'm sorry Ashley; I thought you were someone else. Spencer, just tell your mother I'll be back for supper. I need to go take a walk. Sorry girls.'' He actually looks like confused had a baby with embarrassed.

I'm still haven't moved, my mouth is probably still open, but I wouldn't know for sure.

Spencer comes close to me slowly, and sits gently on my lap. She taps my neck with her index to get my attention.

''I'm really sorry. He, I mean. He didn't know. He thought you were trying to cop a feel or something. Are you okay?''

I nod and pout dramatically and point to where I bumped myself on the wall.

She knows I'm okay, and it's not that bad.

''Awh, poor little baby.'' She teases. I put my hands around her waist and hold her closer. She presses a small kiss on my head, one I barely noticed.

''I love you Spencer.'' I say, a little hesitant.

Her hand goes over my heart, trapping twice, probably not understanding how it can go so fast. I think it means she loves me too.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

I think there are two types of people in this world. Annoying ones, who think that people can be divided in two to types, and other people who just go with the flow. I'm saying this because I think it's annoying when everyone's just dividing everything and putting names on things that already have names, creating sub-names, and then putting names on the sub-names and therefore giving birth to sub-sub-names mutations. With all that crap, we end up having 24.5 different names for the same thing. Because seriously, what's with people needing to name things right? It's obnoxious. Whether is precipitation or rain, it's like, the same thing. Right?

Because I mean, either way, one day you just wake up, and you got something inside you a little changed. Like, the feeling you get when you move one of the things in your room. It feels clean, fresh. You kind of feel like it should have always been there you know? You don't exactly know why you didn't change it before. You feel kind of changed, but I mean, it's nothing you can explain very well, or pin point exactly where it is. Where it started.

It might have been the way she made you feel right. Like you've never really been before, you know? Or the way that she's just the coolest, Hannibal Lecter-loving, strongest, could-fight-prehistoric-whales-if-she-tried, most beautiful, and simply the nicest person you've ever met, and she doesn't even try. I don't know. Isn't that enough? To just know that someone gives you shivers, and makes you physically hurt when they leave? Isn't enough to hold one girl, some day, and to just know? To just know that this is what you should have done since you were born? Why do we have to go and make it real, grade it; crush, like, love, in love?

I'm just scared, you see.

So that's why I'm at my mother's Mother Meeting Council thing.

Yeah. Don't ask. This is not a joke. It was either this, or going over to Spencer's while she's still in her pjs, with messy hair. Therefore looking perfect, and therefore causing me to have an emotional breakdown.

I haven't told Spencer about everything that's been going in my head this past while. It's really the first time, usually I tell her everything. Actually, I'm not even exaggerating by saying _everything_. Like, even those very unimportant thoughts that come and go usually, the ones that are very stupid and you wonder why they were there in the first place. Like my theories on how to save the polar bears from drowning, since they have no ice left up there, because everything we do seems to fart carbon dioxide that leads to global warming or whatever. Which are all very stupid, and after a few seconds more of thought are annihilated by common sense.

''… and so she yelled at me for 45 minutes, simply because I bought purple Fanta.'' My mom is like.

All the attention is on me, and the concerned look that everyone has makes it hard for me not to burst out laughing at this whole group. Their whole version of reality and sense. It's so easy to use the words they understand, and turn them around against them.

''My mother and I have a communication problem,'' I'm about to explode with laughter, so I fake a cough to try to make it go away. They're still looking at me like it's a matter of painful endless death and pure undiluted life.

I'm like, ''I don't know how many times I've told her that Purple Fanta and Coca-Cola are excreted waste. Most probably from prehistoric fish, and therefore, it hurts me deeply when she buys those undrinkable substances instead of Pepsi, the drink that restores my faith in humanity. It almost seems like she wants my death.''

My mother is looking at me like she doesn't know whether to call me full of shit, to apologise, or to be jealous that those ladies like me more then her.

Martha Stuffed-Trout is like; ''Ashley, hon, I'm sure she doesn't mean to hurt you. I'm sure this is all one big misunderstanding.''

I breathe in deeply to try to control the laugh that's about to explode out of me, I close my eyes and nod over dramatically.

I excuse myself, blame the 'overwhelming' emotions this session has brought me, and go home.

It's your fault Spencer. You dick.

God I'm so lame. I knock at Spencer's door, Paula answers.

''Ashley, hello! I'm actually very happy to see you. Spencer, to put it nicely, woke up a little grumpy today.'' She tells me.

So I'm like, ''Wait a minute.'' I run to my house, go get a little something I got in case something like this happened.

I'm back with Paula, with a mask in my hand. She looks at me, chuckles a little and gives me one of those honest smiles. Opens her mouth, closes it. Chuckles again and points upstairs.

I go up, knock once on her door, so I don't walk in on her naked, and ruin my life.

She's lying down on her already made bed, and she has frown that I swear, is bigger then her face. I'm not even sure that expression will ever be able to get washed out of her face. For real.

''Okay grumpy pants. I got a present for you.'' I throw the mask right next to her.

She looks at me her eyes big, her mouth open. She picks up that classic Hannibal mask, that thing that kind of looks like a dog muzzle.

She mouths, ''no way.''

And I shrug, ''yeah way.''

She puts it on her lap and she's like, ''Please put it on, and say the lines when Clarice talks to Hannibal?''

Blasphemy! ''Hey! I'm the one who did you a favour! I gave you the present! What do I get in this?''

She rolls her eyes, smiles, ''Oh come on, as if me asking you isn't enough.''

I roll my eyes. Ew, she's so cute. ''You're such a dick. Stop hurting my pride man.''

She looks at me and grins.

So I roll my eyes and I'm like, ''you're so ambitious, aren't you? You know what you look like with your good back and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A…''

I know that whole part by heart. When I'm done she's looking at me in a way I don't fully understand. She's kind of looking at me the same way I look at her, everyday.

All of this is getting a little too heavy, a little too complicated.

''You're lucky I love you.'' I tease her.

She looks at me, and she is painfully honest as she says;

''Yeah. I know.''

I grab the mask and put it right next to her bead, so it can keep away the nightmares that she keeps having. I go lay next to her and she cuddles closer to me. Her shirt rises. I look at the exposed skin, pale and smooth; I examine the pinkish scar that stretches out across her hip bone. That seems to cut right through her, and in that same way, at that moment seems to cut through me too.

It selfish, but I can't look at it anymore. I can't look at her; it hurts too much. I don't want this you know? I'm not dumb, I can see it in her eyes; she isn't right out from a fairy tale life she was supposed to have. I mean, it doesn't take a master in psychology that half the things she does aren't done the right way, the way they're supposed to. As if half the time, it is more like survival than living. It's not like I can explain either. But just seeing that the inside had leaked and stained the outside in some very superficial way, just seem to be too much for that simple moment.

I felt I was going to break away. I didn't want her to see that. I mumbled some half decent excuse, kissed her cheek and left.

It's pretty late at night; I'm sitting at the kitchen table. I'm holding a glass of cold milk, sipping it as if it can soothe it all. As if it can heal all those wounds I seem to have that aren't supposed to be my own.

''Ash?'' That's my mom.

''Yeah I'm here.''

She looks at me, takes me in.

''What happened?''

I decide to be honest; ''I don't know.''

''Are you okay?''

''I don't know.''

She sits down with me; she takes turns staring at the table and me. She's looking for something to say.

''Why does it have to be so hard all the time, mom?'' I tell her. She doesn't say anything.

''No seriously. What in the fuck is everyone's problem, what's with the messed up way of things? Cause when it's bad, obviously it's going to get better, but why can't you know that then? It's like you shouldn't have hope, like you're not aloud to know that you're going to be happy again. Why doesn't anyone teach you something that you're actually going to need before it happens? Because honestly, all were basically doing is trying to catch up with times that will be over as soon as we learn about them. What about the in between? What if you're needed at that moment, what do you do then?''

I look at my glass, trying to focus on at least one part of my racing thoughts.

''And people suck. Honestly, basically, that's the truth. We try to cover it up, and we do it so well, but because someone, one day, decided to hurt perfection's daughter, you're all as guilty to me. I hate this, I hate them.''

The moonlight is melted on the hardwood floor. She doesn't know what to say. I guess it wasn't fair to explode on her like that. It takes a while before she answers, her hands playing nervously with her wedding ring.

''I, well, I don't know what to tell you Ashley. My guess is that people seem to forget that everything is connected. All of us, through exchanged words, and thing's we can't help. We hurt for the same reasons.''

Everything is silent for a long time. Then I get up; tell my mother I'll be back tomorrow morning. I leave.

I open her door slowly. She's clearly asleep, and she's holding on to the mask I got her, like it's actually something way more comforting then it seems.

She's sleeping on _my_ side of the bed.

I kick off my jeans, grab one of wife beaters she keeps in the first drawer, and slip in on. I take gently the mask out of her hands, and put it where I had earlier.

I put my arms around her tightly. And then it's back to square one, back to normal. She doesn't even wake up, just scoots herself a little closer to me.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

''_There__'__s__no__way__out,__the__only__way__out__is__to__give__in,__when__there__'__s__no__way__out,__the__only__way__out__is__to__give__in.__'' _This is what my speakers gently sing to me as I'm lying in bed.

I feel so sick.

I think this is the first school day I've missed this year. You know what's weird? I've eaten nothing all day, I've vomited three times, and I feel like I'm an iceberg, but who I'm worried about is Spencer. Yeah, I'm not cool, I know. And also the vomit visual, I apologize for that, just pretend I'm so gay I vomit rainbows.

But really, she's going to be alone. Well not really, because my friends love her, and she doesn't have to hang out with The Second Shadow, anymore, but still. I'm worried.

My cell phone rings, and I moan like I'm dying and partly whale as I reach to get it.

It's a text from Frank;

''Hey man where are you? Not to stress you out, but Spencer's been acting weird today. We don't know what to do.''

Two words: Panic, Attack.

I get up a little too fast and nausea hits me hard. I look at the time; I'll probably be able to make it before lunch ends.

I pop a handful of painkillers, knowing my mother would kill me if she saw me. I put on a sweater and rap a scarf around my neck and then I'm gone, trying really hard to ignore my three friends, head rush, need to vomit, and wanting to die. Which are very persistent and determinate people, by the way.

I'm out of breath, ''Where is she?''

Frank turns around, I clearly scared him.

''Ash, what in the fuck is you doing here! Look at you man! You're all white and-''

''Do I look like someone who just popped up from a magic box to have a little chitchat on my health?'' Okay. I never told anyone I was nice, anyways.

A few sounds come out of his mouth, I cut them off with, ''Look sorry man, just tell me where Spencer is before lunch ends, and I die.''

He's looking at me weirdly. He points to the lunch ladies' crib. In other words, where we usually eat food.

I might have mumbled 'thanks', but I don't think so. My stomach was maybe 4 minutes from hanging itself, and I felt like a jock's ice cube bag, you know, sweaty but still cold.

I scanned the tables, and then I saw her.

You know when someone does something weird, and you're like shocked or grossed out, and you look around, to share disgust with someone else and no one saw but you? Or when someone's eyes, for a split second, tell you something else then what the mouth is speaking? And you're the only one you caught that silent message, the truth?

That's kind of how I felt right then.

To anyone else, this was normal. Spencer was just this average girl, with some friends, who were telling her some story. It was a story probably as casual as what happened between Frank and Liz last week end, or how Wulga is planning to steal one of my limbs. But it was scary, the look in her eyes. Even this far, I knew that much. It seemed like she was hollow, completely gone. Her face unresponsive, stone like, like it had frozen neural. I walked slowly towards her, carefully.

I gently tapped her shoulder. She stiffened, flinched away from my touch, shuddered and then turned around slowly, as if scared of what she was going to find. In other words, her reaction made me feel like crying.

He fingers signed this uncertainly, and she gave me a cute little head tilt, ''Ashley?''

The look in her face was gone, evaporated like boiling water, left her face like a bad dream in the morning.

''Hey baby.'' I say this in the type of voice I usually keep for crying children. I then sign, ''You wanna leave?''

Like a pieces of a puzzle that were misplaced, at that moment were finally put in the right place.

She slapped my arm so hard I almost cried.

''You're so stupid! What are you doing here! You're sweaty and as white as Linsey Lohan!''

''Spence, you dick, I'm as sick as a dog, I don't need you going all wife beater on me.''

She actually looked pissed, ''Then why are you here!''

''God-ing lord Spence! I came here to see you! Don't have kittens over it.'' I'm laughing at this point because she's totally ridiculous.

I like her.

She just looks at me, like I'm mighty suspicious.

''Go. Home.'' She signs.

''I was worried about you.''

She dares lifting her eye brow at me. That dick.

''Go. Home.''

''God Spence, you're such a big party muncher.'' I roll my eyes at her, big time. I peek; she's still wearing that very unimpressed look.

''Go Home Ash.''

''You're such a penis Spencer.'' I shiver at the mental image, and then chuckle to myself.

She's still looking like I could be square dancing and juggling knives and she wouldn't care.

I sigh. She always wins, that fucker.

.''Okay. I'll go wait for you at your house. This day better go fast.'' I go back to her house proud and accomplished, I managed to threaten her very viciously. Very viciously indeed.

I fell asleep on her bed. I had the most messed up dream. No seriously, I really did.

So I was walking around, you know, in that slow motion way I always do in my dreams. And I'm there being all cool, like I always am in my dreams. Then I realize I'm in a field of wheat, and I never really dream about those things. But the weird thing about it is that they're red. The wheat thing is red, not flashy, tacky red, but stained, more like. So I'm walking right, and I don't feel too well, probably because out of the dream, I'm actually sick. I'm walking and I know I'm looking for something, but I know I need to hide. And since I'm a dwarf, the wheat things are taller then me, I'm just walking around.

I then hear someone screaming. So I'm scared, because I think it's a killer and he's just going to go all chainsaw massacre on me. But then for some stupid reason, much like a moth to a flame or a blond to a murderer in a scary movie, I follow the sound. This is where it's fucked up, turns out it was Spencer screaming, and then I go to talk, ask her what's wrong, but she just can't hear me. So I yell, right, and then I realise that it's me who can't make a sound.

It wasn't too soothing, for those who need me to be Captain Obvious.

Spencer slams the door open and scares me. Okay. By 'slams the door open', I mean, just comes in normally, and by 'scares me', I mean I let out one of those high pitched girl screams. Don't judge.

''SPENCER! You goddamned kitten!'' I'm like.

She laughs and raises her eyebrow. ''Kitten? Wow Ash, seriously, you went too far.'' This is her spitting sarcasm at my face very lovingly.

I wipe my pride clean and roll my eyes. "Yes Spencer, a kitten damned by god and banished to hell. That is what you seemed like three seconds ago when you nearly broke half of this house."

I watch her as she walks around the room, puts her stuff where it belongs. And I watch her as she takes off her cardigan and puts her hair in a messy bun. And I watch her as she looks for something in her closet; I'm pretty sure she's looking for that cd that's just on her dresser. I watch her as she puts the cd in, and the music slowly fills the room. She finally looks at me and smiles.

''You're not fooling, you're not fooling me.'' She mouths to me, silly, almost carefree.

I roll my eyes out of pure love, and try to smile a little bit, but the screaming from my dream is still stuck in my head, it's making it hard to.

She's like, ''Are you feeling better?''

I'm like, ''Not really, but I guess enough to tolerate you.''

She simply smiles. She's so obnoxious. As if I need reminding that she's the most beautiful thing in this stupid life.

See, I make it sound as if I'm doing her the favour. Well, no, I'm not. This is me being selfish again. I'm going to tell you this, because I trust you, and it is known that I would bring you to court, for reasons of broken federal laws if you ever did speak a word of what imma say next. So if instead I would have gone back home, 4 things would have happened.

1 - I would have told my mother I wasn't feeling well, and she would have told me to get over myself, that I'm the most hypochondriac person she knows, and that it's all in my head.

2 – The she would have sighed, and put her hand on my forehead, and then to make her life sound more dramatic then it is, she would raise her voice slightly as she told me that I was really warm. She would then tell me that we have to go to the doctor (who's the hypochondriac now, Mrs. Moustache).

3 – Then I would just ask her if she couldn't just give me some pills. Then she would be in shock because obviously, a woman who attends group meetings about being a better mother, simply doesn't believe in MEDECINE. The Non biological-green-healthy-bio-degradable-pro-life-non-swearing (or whatever they call it) kind anyways.

4 - And so then she would offer me…

No I can't do this.

Oh god. I need to do this.

Then she would… she would offer to give me the ones you put up your bum. That would cause me to vomit, and in between gags, I would deny, and question her sanity very vulgarly. I would then wear black for the next week, to mourn the loss of my innocence of course, and pretend to slice my wrists every time she came into the room while glaring at her, full of pure hatred.

That would cause her to ask me to get over myself, again, and that would cause me to tell her,

''I'd much rather die and have Glenn Beck marry my dead corpse!''

And then she would ask who that young fellow might be, as if it's a possible boy friend or something, and that would cause me to wear black and slice my wrists every time she came into the room, again.

See? It's better being with Spencer.

She claps to get my attention, ''I think it's bad when you talk, half the time I almost wish I was deaf, but if I was in your head, god, I'm pretty sure I would go insane.'' For those who can't see her eyes, she's obviously joking.

I roll my eyes. ''Yeah, as if being in my head and under my skin isn't your truest, most biggest wish. Don't pretend girl, I know.''

She just laughs at me again. ''Yeah, okay.'' Sarcasm exists with people who can't talk too, sorry to break it to you like this, but it's true.

While I was having the most interesting staring contest with the random circle made in chalk on her wall, Spencer went and got the vibrant, almost neon purple blanket I got her. The one I got for her, that she says keeps her from sleeping, yeah, that same one I always find her holding on to in her sleep when I come see her early in the morning or late at night. She's my most favourite hypocrite ever when she whines about that blanket as if she doesn't love it. She gently climbed on my lap and put the blanket around us. I leaned against the wall and welcomed her weight against my body, it made me feel safe.

And that made me think. Oh yeah, another free dosage of ranting for you!

Well, yeah, it made me think. Is Spencer gay? I mean, I'm not trying to turn this into some angst story of unrequited love towards a straight girl, but I'd really like to know. I mean, she never told me about any of her exes. Like did she even ever date a girl? When you're with someone 24/7, something has bound to come up. She even knows a little bit about Lucy, and that's one thing I don't talk about anymore. She knows about it because she once found this painting I did of her on this cardboard. She knows that I used to paint and draw before, write and all that crap, when I was with her, and just stopped when she left. She didn't push it, but at least she knows.

See, that's were the problems at, I don't know anything. I'm guessing she had someone before, because by god, we're not going to lie to each other, she's beautiful, and probably a lost relative of Emily Haines, meaning really close to perfect. And I mean, is she straight? Maybe she's spaghetti gay, or slightly gay, or bi-sexual, or bi-curious or raging lesbian gay. I'm wishing for the last one, but still, it's weird that after all this time I simply don't know.

''Spencer? Are you gay?''

Blah, you know I'm not any better with silence, anyways.

She turns around and I'm met with a grin and her perfectly done eyebrow, lifted.

One thing you should know about Spencer is that she's an expert at trimming, or whatever you call that, her eyebrows. An expert, I swear.

''No, I mean, really Spence, are you?'' I'm like.

The movement of her back sells out her laughing.

''Stop it, I'm serious Spencer. God. You never tell me anything.'' I didn't mean it to sound so serious, and I didn't mean to sound so hurt.

In a split second, the mood is changed. She gets off me, like I'm a burning object, not a breathing human being with feelings.

She runs a hand through her hair in a desperate manner. Her jaw is clenched, and her muscles are tense, it looks almost painful.

''What do you mean.'' She doesn't ask this, she states it. She doesn't sign this, she throws it.

''There is absolutely nothing. To tell.'' She signs this slowly, and for a second, it really looks like she hates me.

I can't look at her anymore. I look at my legs, and play with the hole in my jeans.

''I didn't mean it like that.'' I say this quietly, and I know I sound pathetic and weak.

I look at her for a small moment. ''So what did you mean then. You think I lie to you? That's what this is all about?''

''No. Look, I didn't say anything like that. I don't know why you're exploding on me like this.'' I still can't look at her while I say this.

I don't look up for a long time, and she doesn't do anything to get my attention.

I've got anger and this intense need to cry, and they're both bubbling up at the same speed. I don't know which one is going to win.

When I finally look at her, I realise it's going to be neither. Her expression is blank, her eyes are empty.

I get up, press 'stop', so that music that is playing won't get tainted by this moment. I know it's too late, but I do it either way.

I don't even look at her, I grab my sweater and I'm out of the room. I make sure to slam the door, and that's enough to drain all the anger from me.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

From where I'm lying on my bed, the snow flakes that make their way down my window almost seem like little light bulbs. I might have watched them fall for two minutes, or maybe it's been an hour or three. The cold had confidently and effortlessly settled in my skin, much of which wasn't covered by my wife beater and boxers. It's as if as soon as you don't feel well, everything suddenly decides to make it worse. Sounds depressing, but consider this, obviously, the 3rd day you hadn't talked to the girl you'd had a 'fight' with, the first one you guys ever had, the first thing you saw to wear that morning, for a day of doing nothing, was something that wasn't going to keep you warm. That same day, you mother happened to be away, not there to put the heater on, and obviously, you didn't put it on yourself since you felt like you deserved to be cold. And that same day, obviously, the first batch snow had to fall down, even if the weather man said it wasn't going to be likely.

See?

And obviously, when you decide to go shower, after a while, the water suddenly starts to run cold. For some reason, you don't like the lukewarm water, in that moment, you want it either to be burning cold or freezing warm. That's exactly what you do; you turn the water till it's the coldest it can get. And almost instantly, you can feel the nerves of your body shutting down one by one, till all that there seem to be left is your lungs. It kind of feels like this is the first time you've breathed, ever. You don't exactly know how that feels, but you figure it mustn't be far from this. For the first time in three days, you feel alive, and while that thought passes through your brain, you're eyes are scanning indifferently your skin, that is now almost pale blue.

Yeah, I guess that's life.

I turn the water off, and try to ignore my body that's shaking almost violently. I dry my hair with a towel, and then rap one around myself. The warm feeling it brings, feels odder then the coldness of the water. I step out of the bathroom, knowing I'm the only one in the house makes me feel a little better. So I walk slowly down the hall, and slowly up stairs.

My heart falls, or maybe it swells up till it's in my throat, I don't know, all I know is that Spencer is waiting in front of the door of my room. I've never really believed in much, but the look on her face as she faces me right now, well, she looks almost holy. She has a purple Tupperware in her hands.

I awkwardly walk till I reach her, knowing I have to be careful to not let her know I feel like I just can't breathe when she's not there.

Now she's close, her breath feels like fire against my cold skin, as the droplets from my wet hair fall onto the floor in slow motion. I'm looking at the dark spots the water just made, not her eyes. I know I'm childish; I just can't help much of that.

It's her sigh that catches my attention. She gives me a small tentative smile, and shows me the Tupperware that, I can see, is holding chocolate chip cookies. Those home baked ones she knows have just so much power over me.

She looks at me now, her eyes they look like something that wouldn't be able to lie to me.

''You can't just come here like it makes it all okay.'' I say.

She bites her lip and looks around nervously; she's trying to find something to say.

''I know.''

''It wasn't right that you got mad at me for what I said.'' I don't say this firmly, I say it loosely, like I'm doubting myself. Like I'm a child, using the words of my mother.

I know she's sorry, she doesn't even have to label the feeling she's giving out, the look in her eyes. I've seen that all before, who hasn't? I don't mind the apologies, in fact, it makes me feel even a little guilty, but what I did mind was the unjustified anger. It could break anyone's heart seeing that in the eyes of someone you love like that.

She signs, ''I'm sorry.''

It's hard for her to say this, I acknowledge that by mirroring what she said earlier, ''I know.''

''Give me another chance?''

I nod, ''Okay.''

She sighs, and then starts. ''I never gave much thought to that.''

''I don't much believe in labelling, as coward as that might sound. But I think at this point, in my life, and what I've grown to be, well, I'd like to say I'd take whatever I'm given, but it's more like I'll take whatever I'm able to hold. And you're not dumb, I know that, and I know you like playing dumb with everyone else, but I see through you Ash. I really do. And you're not. I know that you've noticed that there's not much that can fit between my fingers.''

She looks at me directly, her eyes blinding mine with this simplistic honesty.

''You know, sometimes, when I look at you and it seems like there's nothing you can hide, I feel that maybe, just maybe, you can see through all of this to see me. To know what I do, to be exactly just that; what I do. It isn't what I mean, and most of the time, it isn't what I'd like to do, either. You might not completely understand this; really, I don't expect you to, because for some reason, it's different with you. I've known that much since the beginning. You know how long I've been looking for that Ash? For something different? Something that I can feel? I wish I could have written all of this because at one point, it becomes too much to say. It seems too much for me to sign and too much for you to hear.''

It breaks my heart, because at this point I'd would rather let her hurt me and forget bout it, just so I can keep her close, protect her, you know? But it doesn't work that way, I guess.

''Don't look at me like that. I don't want you to feel guilt or pity or whatever else. That's not my point; I'm not trying to blackmail you for some forgiveness. I'm trying to give you direct honesty, as if it's all that I've been doing since the beginning. There's so much honesty I wish I could give you Ash. Seriously. There are so many things I feel I should tell you, simply because or else, I feel like I'm going to explode. I wish I could tell you to stay, even when you do it either way, just so you could know that you're wanted, all the time. And I wish I could ask you to look at me, even when you'll eventually do, just so you could understand how much I need to be reminded that I'm something real to you. And seriously, honestly Ash, I wish I could tell you things like hold me, or kiss me, or that I love you, because at this point, there's nothing else that stands to be as true and as needed. And it, seriously, honestly, fucking sucks that your looking at me right now like that's a surprise.''

Were still in front of my door, I'm still in a towel, she still brought me cookies, and my hair is still giving small droplets of water to the carpet. What's different is this new kind of energy in my body, this new beat to rhythm in my veins. She picks up the cookies now, opens my door. I can only look at her. I slowly walk in my room and sit on my bed, like none of this is real.

I'm looking at my carpet, but I can feel the tip of her finger going up my arm, and I know she's taking in the coldness of my skin. She gets up and leans against the wall in front of my bed.

''I don't know what to say.'' That's the only thing, after long minutes of thinking; I came up with to say to her.

She shrugs, pretending that everything she told me was just irrelevant, simple, easy to take in, easy to forget.

''I guess I should tell you to just not try with me, that no one wants to play with anything that's already broken. No matter what you do, there's always going to be this part of me gone, and you should find someone who can give you everything, all at once, naturally. Maybe I should even tell you to give up on me, to not try, but that's always so hard to do right? When it's something you actually want to keep?''

I open my mouth to speak, but to be honest, nothing comes out. Her honesty scares and paralyzes me.

I open my mouth, and close it again.

No seriously. Don't blame me for not being able to say anything. Blame her, christ. What can I say to this? Like, put thick black permanent marker around my eyes like its eyeliner, slice my wrists with butter knives and let me cry small rivers.

Oh shit. I think I'm doing that eyebrow meeting my hair line thing that my mother does, the one that looks vomitatrocious.

''So yeah. I think I'm going to leave now. So maybe you can come over when you feel like it and all.''

It's funny how easily objects can take on human traits and in some weird way, fill up the same holes people can. I'm not only saying this because I'm a pack rat, and have boxes filled with junk, but because I've had Spencer's Tupperware on my bedside for the past 2 days and it brings me some a wrong kind of comfort.

I suddenly get up. This is getting ridiculous.

I grab the Tupperware and go down stairs. My mother is there.

''Oh hello Ashley!'' This is my mom. She gave birth to me, but the only genes we share are those that made us have crazy Italian hair. And we are not even Italian.

I've come to realise that there's 3 things that are of utter importance in my mother's life.

1 – Tanning Salons

2 – Her Mother's Group

3 – The dentist that whitens her teeth.

That is when I realised I've been stuck in my room for too long, because she had time to get cooked, have her teeth dyed florescent white, and is talking to her only daughter like she is a ray of sunshine. Usually I have the time to throw out the post-its she sticks on the fridge, saying things like 'Dentist tomorrow :D' or 'M.O.N. Topic : Sexting!' or whatever. She forgets anything that's not on a post-it.

I blink many times rapidly. ''Okay. Yes. What the fuck.''

''You like? I went to this new place that just opened, its right next to –''

I cut her off, shocked by pure saturation of her color, ''you look well roasted mother. Good job.''

I go get my coat, and 4 scarves. It is snowing and cold outside. It could be deadly. I put on my shoes. I look around for mittens, I can't find any. I see a pair of my socks next to my couch, I shrug, and put them on.

My mother coughs, I look up.

She looks at me, her eyebrows looking like another layer of hair. ''Where are you going?''

''To Spencer's, I'm going to give her Tupperware back.''

''Well that's good honey, you should invite her over for supper, I was starting to worry you guys got in a fight!'' She sighs and laughs out of this weird kind of relief.

Oh god mom.

''Okay?''

I get out. From my porch and the snow falling down, I can see Paula, Mrs. C, Spencer's Mo', shuffling some snow.

I quickly walk to her driveway. I notice that Arthur's car isn't there.

''Hello Spencer's biological mother.'' I greet her very full of joy.

She looks up, her cheeks a cute shade of pink. She waves a mitten/hand at me. ''Hello Spencer's recently most absent friend!''

''That wasn't completely nice Mrs. C. You need help? For the snow?''

I see her look down to my hands, which are just covered by some of my thick grey socks. She laughs and nods, and then she gives me a shovel.

Me and Paula come in, the snow that's on us looks like ear lobe sized dandruff. And this is the first time I ever used ear lobes as a method of identifying size. You should try it, it's kind of weird. I start to take off my snow equipment and I hear steps coming down the stairs. Unless the Carlins got a teenaged sized bear, that leaves only one option as to whom caused that sound.

She looks surprised when she sees me, and probably my red nose and cheeks too. She walks slowly up to me. Her mother looks at us like she just knows. She leaves the room silently.

''Hey Spencer.'' I'm like.

''Hey Ashley.'' She's like.

''I brought you your Tupperware.''

''Oh thanks.'' She takes it.

''I only came here to ask you something, it won't take long.''

She smiles.

''Well, it's very important. I just wanted to know if you think that if a ghost looked at mirror, well if it you think it could see it's own reflection?''

She knows it's my way of saying that everything is okay.

Her smile grows, it's honest and I think she looks so cute. ''Yeah, I'm pretty sure a ghost would be able. I'm also sure that a whale likes the sound of her own echo.''

I'm beaming with pride. Only a perfect person could know that.

''You want to go watch a movie?'' She asks.

And we actually do end up watching a movie. Well, not watching per say. We put one on, and I use that as excuse to keep her close, I rap my arm around her. After a little while, her breathing seems to be calmer somehow. I notice she's asleep and that makes a smile slowly appear on my face. I manage to carry her to her bed, and she doesn't even wake up. I get us both under the blankets, and I hold her warm body tight. The snowflakes that are hitting against the window sound like Rice Crispies cereals. It slowly makes me fall asleep too.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

I often wonder if there are particular steps one must follow in a particular situation. I can feel her breathing on my arm, its soothing. I like it, who wouldn't? I wish someone could just come to me one day, and teach me how to act normal, and be normal, and do casual normal things. So what I am supposed to do now, after all that's been said and done? In the movies, they would have probably kissed and made up after all those apologies and words. Right? Yeah. But see, that's why I generally don't watch movies with bad plot lines and phony characters, and that's why I feel like shoving knives in my ears when people talk about movies with bad plot lines and phony characters. And that is also why I'm going to sue Stephanie Meyer.

She's just sitting on my bed. Oh yeah, by she, I mean that girl with the hair and the eyes. She's actually going through my stuff, like being a ninja gives her the right.

I think it's rude when she doesn't pay enough attention to me.

I don't even think she's tall enough to be a ninja. And aren't ninjas midgets to begin with? I don't know. My knowledge stops at prehistoric fish and zombies.

I'm like, "how tall are you anyways?"

She looks at me weird.

So I'm like, "don't be a dick, I won't laugh unless you're under five feet."

She thinks for a few seconds. "I'm pretty sure I'm 5''4… why?"

Deep breath. Hold it in. Common body parts… fail. I laugh and look at her in disbelief.

"I think you're the smallest dwarf I've ever met. You probably can't even get into kiddie rides in amusement parks."

"Sometimes Ashley, it's like you're too weird for me. It's not like you're six foot either."

I snort. "Yeah, okay. Maybe not, but at least I'm not considered a Little Person by the government"

She looks at me and rolls her eyes.

I'm left to chuckle for a little while. At first she gives me dirty looks, but slowly gets tired of it and ignores me, and continues to look in my drawers.

I think she's pretty cute for a midget.

"Why don't you paint anymore" She's like.

"Why don't you tap dance anymore?" is my reply.

She looks at me with a look of shock and utter annoyance, "Fuck Ash, must you suck every little information about me out of my mother?"

I smile at her. "I wouldn't be a good…"

There's a brief pause. It seems like a bunch of words are dancing between us, none of them being able to put a name to what we are.

"…A good friend if I didn't know every embarrassing moment of your life"

The word friend feels wrong in my mouth. Kind of like yogurt you know? Like you don't need to chew it, but you can't really swallow it right away. So you just let it sit in your mouth awkwardly until you realise you have to swallow it.

That's why I don't like yogurt and words like friends.

She doesn't seem to notice that off feeling that came along with the word, and I guess that's okay. I guess that's good for her. But for me, I'm just left confused, the type you rather experience alone.

What do words like love mean? What do they imply? I mean, maybe its not because a girl loves you and you love her, that she makes you feel happy and makes you shiver, even when you're warm, that it means anything more than it is. But what if hearts had requirements, what if to conserve it like you would with milk, you had do certain things? The equivalent of putting milk in a refrigerator would be like calling the girl you love girlfriend, and holding her hand in public.

"I still think you shouldn't have stopped painting." She signs as I finally look up at her. She's going through some random papers I haven't touched in ages. Probably filled with half finished drawings from before I met her.

I'm like, "I don't know Spence, I just don't feel like it anymore."

She's like, "Well, you should try again. I wouldn't be a good _friend_ if I didn't push you to do everything I know you can do well.

There's a certain thought that goes through her head as she signs the word friend, I know that because a certain look in her eyes appears and leaves the moment she says the word. She lifts a perfect eyebrow, challenging me.

I quickly wipe the paint off my desk before it dries and I have to scratch it off with my nail. Like the first time that happens, you kinda even have fun scratching away the paint, watching it become those little colourful pencil shavings like things. But after a while, trust me, it ain't so fun anymore.

I look at what I've done for a while, trying to acknowledge every single part of it. Then when it's dry, I put in on the pile with the others. I've had the time today to create a rather big pile of paintings, on cheap sketchbook paper.

Yeah. I guess you're all wondering if this is a flashback, if some other girl that's not Spencer and a dwarf will come in. Well, no. It's actually the current day. I don't know why I decided to paint today, of all days. I mean. After all this time, I could have mistaken a bottle of lube for water colors. Erugh, what a disgusting comparison.

I have about a dozen half decent sketches and paintings and I just, there's nothing here good enough. Just simply, that's it. There's some that I think she would like, and there's some that I like best, and there's some that I imagine she would like for certain reasons, there's some that I like the technique I used and others the idea. And just all in all, there's nothing I feel fit to give to her.

This is so frustrating. I close all the open bottles and shove them into a bag, and try to clean myself a little. I then hear a knock on the door.

"What?" Is what I yell out.

The door slowly opens and Spencer comes in. I give her one of those half felt smiles and try to ignore my frustration and empty hands.

She gives me a curious smile. "Hey you."

I greet her. "Hey midget."

She rolls her eyes and gets closer to me. She picks a bit of dried paint out of my hair and grins while she signs,

"What have you been doing? I didn't see you all day?"

I don't know why I randomly get mad. "Nothing at all Spencer."

I don't like the tone of my voice, even if she can't hear it, I know she can feel it.

"Oh, so you've done absolutely nothing all day?"

I pull a face and shrug.

She examines me for a moment. "What's up with you?"

"Fuck Spencer, nothing's up."

She raises an eyebrow. Spencer's not the type to take anyone's shit, and it seems, especially not mine. She looks at me and signs "Come and see me when you stop psming."

She leaves and I'm stuck with a pile of drawings and this feeling like, incompetence is it? Yeah I think so. Incompetence. Like I have to do something, not only with my hands, but with everything I own, and I just, I'm not able to. I'm not able to make a pretty painting worthy of being given to her, and I'm not able to make her feel like kissing me even if its not important, and I'm not able to make everything okay.

I'm lying on my bed, motionless as I stare at my ceiling. That's what love does to you. And it hits me. Love. My love for another being. My love for someone who's mute and scarred, miniscule and the most perfect person I know. I feel it out, take it in. Sometimes things are just there, so you don't really notice. I guess I didn't realise it completely.

I think I'm in love with Spencer.

Somehow, it doesn't feel weird, that thought going back and forth in my head. It doesn't feel strange to hear it coming out of my mouth.

"I'm in love with Spencer."

It's like it makes perfect sense after I make sure I don't have an electrical gadget attached to my head that might interfere with my thoughts. I take all that I drew and put it in the garbage.

I quickly make my way to Spencer's house.

I'm like, "Hello Spencer's mother! I was wondering if Spencer came back from my house because she accidently talked to my twin who happens to be a total d-word. I want to fix this mistake as soon as I can before she hires a Hit-Man."

Paula is like, "I thought you were smarter than that Ashley, usually sane people keep those types of twins locked up in the cellar."

"Touché oh great creator of Spencer. If I remember I'll put a star next to your name."

"She actually left a few minutes ago; she said she was going to the park." She smiles at me before going to back to doing whatever she was doing. I hope it has something to do with baking and cupcakes and pink icing.

"Okay! Bye! We will meet again!" Maybe it my imagination or my intense love for cupcakes and all that is baked and sacred, but I think I heard a laugh from the kitchen.

I pop my skate up as I reach the closest park to Spencer's house, and see her on the swings, her feet swaying slightly. She doesn't notice me, so I take a few minutes to breath in my surroundings. I feel the cold October wind against my skin and the delicate, subtle rays of the setting sun through my hair. The purples and the blues, the pinks and the oranges in the sky remind me of when Spencer and I first met. I walk slowly towards her.

I'm like, "Hey fattie, I think your mother has entered sainthood by the fact that I do believe that she is baking something right now."

She jumps slightly before saying, "You bleed yet?"

"Well I'm not Pmsing anymore if that's what you mean!"

She looks at me, unimpressed.

Look at my feet and kick innocent pieces of dirt. Yes I know, I can be heartless sometimes. "I stalked you because I wanted to tell you that... well... that I think that you are cute..."

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied by my lie that is not really technically a lie.

"OKAY you win Spencer, I came to say sorry."

She makes a hand motion that basically tells me I'm not finished.

"God Spencer okay, I'll admit it, I was a dick. Now are you done with making me suffer?" I start to smile but then realise I should be frustrated, so I quickly make it disappear.

I go on the swing next to her and we watch the sun fall slowly. Somewhere along the way her hand meets mine.


End file.
